


Wolves and Change

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Series: Lupus Et Draco [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, House Stark, Robert's Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 80
Words: 179,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickard Stark has southern ambitions, but how far do they run?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations

**11 th Month of 281 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

The words from the letter before him hit him hard, and he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, probably because it had. He could not believe what had been said in the letter, he could not believe the king would do such a thing, he knew the king was mad, but this? This was an act of pure lunacy, something only someone so depraved and insane could do. That he had done it not to just one person but to all of Brandon’s companions was something that shocked him. It showed just how far gone Aerys was, he was no longer the smiling and charming man of his youth, in his place gods Rickard did not know what he was. As if trying to shake of the fear and the horror or rather trying to confirm it he spoke. “Can you read the letter again Maester Walys?”

The maester who had been in Winterfell for as long as Rickard could somewhat remember looked at him sorrowfully and spoke once more. “In the name of his most royal highness King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name King of the Seven Kingdoms, we do hereby announce the death of Brandon Stark heir to Winterfell and son of Lord Rickard Stark. Lord Brandon proved to be treasonous beyond measure and threatened not only the life of our son and heir Prince Rhaegar, but has also been plotting to remove us from our gods given throne. For these crimes, we sentenced Brandon Stark to death by fire. We do hereby request that Lord Rickard Stark come with his children to renew his fealty to the throne, and to show us that he is not a traitor unlike his son.”

Rickard took a shuddering breath as shock and grief warred inside of him, anger was not even an emotion at this point in time though it would be later. He looks at the maester and asks him. “So maester, what suggestions do you have? What ideas do you have that can help me and my family out of this mess? There are things that should have been done that were not done and there has been a cost to my own family when there should have been none.”

The maester to his credit remained silent for a long time considering his options and then eventually said. “Call Lord Eddard home, my lord. King Aerys is more than likely to look to the Vale next, especially with the spider whispering in his ear. The realm knows of the friendship between Lord Eddard and Lord Robert Baratheon, soon enough the king in his paranoia will summon for them as well. And we do not know whether or not Jon Arryn will move to protect them or not.”

Rickard looks at the man for a moment and then says. “I do not believe Jon Arryn would willingly surrender Eddard over to the mad man who calls himself a king. But yes, if his hands were tied, then who knows what he would do. That is something I do not wish to find out, after all Eddard is now my heir and must come home. Send the raven out tonight, and send a raven informing him of his brother’s death. It will be hard for him but he must come home now. And it is time to assess whether or not Lord Hoster will be true to his word.”

The maester who had been nodding with his words looked at him then and asked. “What do you mean by that my lord? After all, House Tully has been nothing but a strong ally to you and the north during the time that you have been corresponding with the man.”

Rickard considers for a moment and then holds the letter which the maester had placed on the table in front of them both. “With this letter, Aerys Targaryen has officially named my son a traitor and is suggesting that the same is true of me. Hoster Tully might be a friend but his house’s words are not Family, Duty, and Honour for no reason. Should push comes to shove he will side with the king to protect his family. Unless we were to become his family. And for that to come to pass, Eddard must wed his daughter Catelyn and he must do it soon.”

“To what extent though my lord? Such things are good, but unless you plan to call a council and discuss whom should sit the throne the father or the son, such alliances will not do much of anything except further worry the realm. And with Lord Brandon’s actions having begun a mess, such things would not bode well for House Stark.” The maester replied.

Rickard looks at the maester and feels his anger begin to grow, it is finally coming. Keeping his voice as calm as possible he says. “Whilst what you say is true Walys. The realm has seen now the true extent of Aerys madness, and if Rhaegar truly fell off of the rocks as some sources say before he abducted my daughter, then there is no hope for the man. His children likely carry the same taint, and as such so will his brother. It is a shame for we all pinned our hopes on Rhaegar Targaryen. But another means must be found to obtain the justice Aerys would deny.”

“What do you suggest then my lord?” the maester asks though it is clear by the tone of his voice that he knows exactly where Rickard is going with this.

Rickard gives the man one of his rare smiles and says. “Well considering that my daughter is betrothed to Robert Baratheon, and the Baratheons are famed for their temper and being easily persuadable, I do not think it would be too much of a stretch to try and convince Robert Baratheon that it would be in his best interest to join the alliance formally. In a way his father never did.”

The maester looks at him somewhat and then asks. “You mean to declare war?”

Rickard looks at the man and says. “I mean to have justice. A chance to regain what was taken from us so long ago and I mean to see that the man who killed my son, my little boy is served his just deserts.”

Walys Flowers is silent a long time, and then when he does speak there is no reproach in his voice only a note of caution. “That is all well and good my lord, but unless there is more to it than simple revenge, then the realm will stand against you. Whilst, they might be horrified by what Aerys has done to your son and his companions, they will not want to risk upsetting the status quo to remove Aerys. His son is no longer around to become the shining beacon that we all thought. People will look at Viserys Targaryen and wonder if perhaps he could be a tool to manipulate. All in all trying to get Robert Baratheon on the throne might not be an easy task, after all none really know him and his house is famed for being hot-headed. You, yourself know just how comfortable people can get with established houses. Just look at what happened when the Ironsmiths and the Whitehills tried to rebel when your father died. They were crushed, because even though none were truly happy with Edwyle Stark, they were safer in the Stark name then allowing anarchy to come through.”

Rickard grits his teeth his anger growing and looks at the man once more. “Thank you for the history lesson Walys. I am perfectly aware of what happened, I lived through it and saw to it that they were punished. But this is different, Robert Baratheon is a young man who knows what’s what, and he is not a Targaryen and does not show any signs of madness. Sooner or later the loyalties fostered in Jon Arryn will come through and marrying Eddard to Catelyn Tully will bring the Tullys onside.”

“And what of Tywin Lannister? Mace Tyrell? And even Doran Martell? They all have something to gain by protecting the Targaryens they will not fall over themselves to aid a man they know nothing about. Jaime Lannister is a man of the Kingsguard sworn to protect and obey and a hostage. Doran Martell’s sister is Rhaegar’s wife and as such a hostage as well. Mace Tyrell, Tyrell is someone who could be swayed I believe. But it would require a lot of effort.” Flowers says.

Rickard nods and then says. “What do you have in mind for the Tyrells? After all they are kin to you are they not, albeit distantly. How would you bring them to realise their future lies with Robert Baratheon and not with Aerys Targaryen?”

The maester smiles and says. “Oh I have my ways my lord. I know things about that family that would send shivers down the others if they existed. There are secrets, and then there are secrets. Some are dark, some are completely frightful and all are things that none in that family want brought to light. I need merely remind them of this and they will come crawling.”

Rickard nods at the man and says. “See it done. It is time for them to move and get active. It is time we took a much more active part in the realm. Now has there been any word on Lyanna and where she and that bloody silver haired fool might be?”

The maester shakes his head and Rickard feels his heart drop even further. “Unfortunately not my lord. There has been nothing since the letter came from Lord Brandon. All of our allies are looking and they have found nothing.”

Rickard nods and says. “Very well you may leave Walys. But be sure to send word to Eddard and ensure that once he has left for White Harbour that you send the ravens calling the banners. I do not want anything bad to happen should Lyanna be in King’s Landing.” The man nods and then leaves.

Rickard sits in his solar alone for a long time, brooding and worrying, his eldest son and heir is dead. Brandon, so full of life and joy, someone who gave him so many headaches but someone he loved dearly, his firstborn, gone, gone because Aerys Targaryen could not see reason, gone because Rhaegar Targaryen was an oaf and a fool. The door opens and Rickard sees his wife Lyarra standing there in the doorway. He wants to get up and comfort her but he cannot move, and so almost as if she can read his mind she walks towards him and holds him as he shudders into her chest. “They took our boy Lya, they took our boy. And now I do not know what I am going to do.”

His wife, the daughter of Rodrik Stark a fighter and the wandering wolf, holds him and then tilts his face to ensure that they are looking into one another’s eyes. There is a fire there when she says. “You will do what needs to be done my love. You will make those who have wronged us pay. And you will ensure that Brandon gets justice. And that Lyanna is found. You will do what you have always done when the north is in crisis, or when the children have needed you. You will be strong and carry on for though they may be dragons, the Targaryens will wilt in the face of winter’s Wrath.”

Rickard looks at his wife then and says in a very soft voice. “I am so sorry my love. My ambitions are costing us our children, and that was something I had sworn would never happen again. Not after the she wolves. And yet I am seeing it happen, and I fear what could happen next I truly do.”

His wife looks at him then and says. “There is no need to apologise my love. When the time comes, you will be remembered with admiration in the north. When your grandson sits the throne, all will remember the name Stark.”


	2. Horror Show

**12 th Month of 281 A.C. The Eyrie**

**Eddard Stark**

The raven had come that morning, and Jon had pulled him inside to discuss its content. When he had not replied and when he had not come out of the castle again, Robert and Jon had come looking for him, and now they were trying to talk to him but the words were not sinking in. He could not honestly believe it, what his father wrote could it truly be real?  “I do not know whether to cry or scream. I do not know what to believe, anymore. Only that my brother is dead and now my father is planning something.” He said his voice hoarse.

Jon of course was there straight away providing reason. “It is perfectly normal to feel this way Ned.  Do not try to rush into anything, let the grief come before you try and comprehend it. And your father has merely asked you come home as a precaution. Now that Aerys has shown his true hand and colour, your father does not wish to risk you. You are his heir now.”

His mentor’s words hit him even harder and he remembers not for the first time that he is now heir to Winterfell, a position he never wanted, something that was always supposed to be Brandon’s. “I do not know what to make of that Jon. I do not know whether I want it, it was always supposed to be Brandon’s. He was father’s heir, he was father’s favourite he would know what to do now. He would not be standing here, he would be doing something anything.”

His mentor’s voice is soft when he says. “He did do something Ned. And he paid the price for it. Brandon is dead and you are the heir to Winterfell now. You must accept that and move on from this, you cannot allow it to haunt you. You must do as your father asks and return to Winterfell with great haste.”

“And what about the search for Lyanna?” Ned asks, his other major concern coming forward. “No one is looking for Lyanna, we do not know where she is. None of my father’s men have found any hint or trace of her. She might very well be in King’s Landing, something has to be done and yet my father does nothing but sit and wait. I do not understand.”

Jon once again provides a soft rationale. “The king has shown just how unstable he is Ned. Your father is merely making sure he has all of his bases covered before he moves to answer the summons. It is a smart move and something that I would, were I in his place. As for your sister, there is nothing you could do, that others have not done. The very best of your father’s men and mine own men have looked for her, even Lord Hoster’s men have looked for her and found nothing. You could not do anything different.”

Ned looks at the man he considers a second father and then asks. “And what would you do if you were in my place Jon? What would you do if your sister was missing and your brother had been burnt alive by the king, the man supposed to bring justice to the realm?”

His mentor considers this for a long moment and then says. “I would think very hard about what I wanted to do before I acted on it. And once I decided I would not waver from that course of action. But there is another reason you must head back to Winterfell Ned. A raven has just come from King’s Landing, Aerys wants you and Robert to come to King’s Landing as well.”

Ned looks at his mentor completely shocked by this and asks. “Whatever for? I have done nothing wrong. I have been here this whole time, what reason could Aerys have for wishing for me let alone Robert going to King’s Landing?”

Jon looks at him his expression tired and sad. “What your brother did was reckless and foolish Ned, I will not lie to you. His death has only further ignited the king’s paranoia it would appear, he wants to have leverage over your father should he consider gaining justice. And as to why Robert, Robert is Lyanna’s betrothed, should something happen he wants to remove Robert from contention.”

Ned looks at his mentor then and asks in a soft voice. “What do you plan to do Jon? Will you send Robert off to King’s Landing or not?”

Jon Arryn looks at him a moment and then laughs. “I have no power over Robert Ned, he is a man grown and a lord in his own right. But what Aerys is asking is too much for any man to bear. I will not have my kingdom threatened by a mad man. Things are being put into work to ensure Robert gets home safely, but you too must go home safe and sound.”

Ned nods and departs for his rooms, and begins packing, his heart thumping in his mouth as he does so, all of this, this is happening too soon and too quickly. He knows not what to think or whether to blame anyone, he could blame Brandon for being rash and stupid, but he knows that in that situation he likely would’ve done the same. He worries and panics and only hears Robert when his friend says. “So Jon told you about the raven then did he?”

Ned nods and says. “Aye he did. What do you plan on doing Robert?”

His friend looks at him a moment and then says. “I intend to return home to Storm’s End and call the banners. The Targaryens have gotten too lofty about themselves, Rhaegar has more than likely kidnapped your sister and insulted both of our houses. My ancestor the laughing storm did not stand for it when Duncan Targaryen broke his own betrothal, and I will not stand for it this time. This is more than that though, the king has threatened our lives Ned, this can only be resolved with war.”

Ned nods and then asks his friend a question he has been wanting to know the answer to for a very long time. “Will you continue to stand by my family and my sister, even if it turns out Rhaegar has despoiled her Robert?”

His friend is silent for a long moment and Ned fears the worse and then he comes over and lays a hand on Ned’s shoulder and says very seriously. “Of course Ned. You are my brother in all but blood, and Lyanna, she is to be my wife, and I would die before I forsook either of you.”

Ned nods and then his friend leaves the room and he finishes packing. Soon enough he is ready to go, and early the next morning he sets out from the Eyrie making his way across the treacherous pathways and mountain tracks to get a boat to the three sisters and from there to White Harbour.  He manages to get passage on a small fishing boat going to the sisters, the man commanding the boat is old, older than his own father perhaps of an age with uncle Brandon, and as such seems genial and willing to allow Ned on for a certain price. The man’s daughter certainly is very pretty and Ned has to remind himself of his honour to not try and do more than speak with her. When they come across a storm that rocks the boat and throws the girl’s father overboard, Ned holds the girl as she cries, and later he comforts her as best he can, but that still leaves him feeling uneasy when they come to shore two weeks later in Sisterton.

He is brought before Lord Osgood Borrell, Lord of Sweetsister and shield of Sisterton, the man is big and broad a warrior and a pirate, and a conniving man. “Eddard Stark I presume. My sources tell me you wish to book passage to White Harbour? Tell me why should I allow you to pass and not hand you over to the king?”

Ned is silent a moment and then says. “Because the king is a mad man, and there would be no honour in handing me over now. Not when I have taken guest right in your hall.”

The man laughs then a booming sound that reminds him of Robert. “Oh yes that is true, and yet my maester here would see you sent in chains to King’s Landing so we could claim the reward the king has put out for you. Wouldn’t you maester Daegon?”

The maester has a shocking mop of silver hair and violet eyes and Ned guesses he is a Targaryen though from whom he knows not. “Yes, the Targaryens are the only ones who will come out of this mess none the worse for wear. After all they have Prince Rhaegar the man who has more skill than even Daemon Blackfyre did with a blade. They have the royal armies and three hundred years of loyalty to their beck and call. What does this savage have?”

Ned bristles slightly but manages to keep his voice calm and even when he responds. “The right for justice. My brother was unlawfully murdered by the king and as such the king has forfeited any right to respect that myself and my father and the lords of the north owe him. He has shown himself to be a mad man and someone incapable of rational thought. Such a man does not deserve the throne.”

The maester bristles and Lord Osgood laughs somewhat. “Well this wolf certainly has some bite. And he does speak the truth Daegon. No one has seen or heard from Rhaegar Targaryen since he abducted Lady Lyanna, and King Aerys grows worse and worse with every passing day. His decrees and laws are more erratic than a storm coming into bay. Besides, Robert Baratheon has already beaten the Graftons and taken Gulltown. That is what a king is, someone who fights his own battles not some ninny who hides behind a harp.”

Ned is stunned by this and asks. “You have news of Robert Baratheon?”

Borrell nods and says. “Aye, your friend Baratheon and Jon Arryn marched with half the strength of the Vale to Gulltown where they did battle with some of the Valemen declaring for the Targaryens. Robert was the first over the walls of Gulltown and killed Marq Grafton. I believe he is sailing for Storm’s End now. Which leads me to decide that you will be allowed safe harbour to White Harbour and if you fail to win this little rebellion then you were never here.”

Ned nods his head in acceptance and says. “Nothing is ever certain in life my lord apart from winter. But I thank you nonetheless.” And with that he departs and later that day boards a ship bound for White Harbour, thinking of the girl from the boat and how she is faring. Of course when he arrives in White Harbour he finds Lord Wyman Manderly and his two sons and a score of men waiting for him.

“My Lord Eddard, we had been told to expect you by your father.” Lord Wyman says his voice booming.

“I can see that my lord, might I ask why there are so many armoured men here with you?” Ned responds.

The lord of White Harbour is silent a moment and then says. “When your father received word of your departure from the Vale he called the banners, it seems we are to be marching for war to avenge Lord Brandon. As such we are marching to meet your father and the rest of the northern bannermen in Moat Cailin.”

“I see,” Ned says. “I would be more than willing to join you my lord, but if I could ask one favour from you, I have not got my armour with me, and as such might need to borrow a suit from you.”

“Not to worry my lord, your father sent someone down to White Harbour with a suit of your armour for you.” Lord Wyman says and calls out and Ned is surprised to see his father’s advisor Martyn Cassel riding towards them.

Martyn Cassel is a tall man, broad shouldered, a giant really. He smiles at Ned and says. “Well young one, here you go, your armour is in there. get dressed and then we shall ride out.”

Ned nods and does so rather quickly, his armour feeling somewhat awkward on his body as it has been sometime since he had worn it. Still he is ready to go and so they ride in silence for most of the journey, Ned feeling something gritting in his stomach, unable to put a name to it and so it goes until they reach the Moat. He sees Bolton, Dustin, Ryswell, Umber, Karstark, Hornwood, Glover, Mormont, Flint of Flint’s Finger, and various mountain clan banners and now the banners of the Manderlys, the Flint’s of Widow’s Watch, the Lockes and Woolfields all added to the collection.  The direwolf of house Stark flies proudly in the centre of it all, and when Ned finds his father, he is sat alone contemplating the maps in front of him. He looks up when he hears Ned, and says. “Son, so you survived.” There is something akin to relief in his father’s voice.

Ned nods emotion making it hard to speak. He swallows and then says. “Aye I did father. Might I ask what all these men are doing here?”

His father laughs somewhat then and it sounds somewhat bitter. “They have answered my call to arms. Aerys has asked for me to go south to answer for Brandon’s crime. I decided I would not go south alone but with the strength of the north. 25,000 men have come now that the Manderlys and their bannermen have joined us. We shall march south to get justice for Brandon and find Lyanna. Furthermore we shall need to remove Aerys from power, and with Rhaegar having shown his colours, it does seem your friend Robert might be more the option.”

Ned is blown away by all of this. “You mean to seat Robert on the throne? How will you get to King’s Landing when the riverlands stand in your way?”

“Robert is as good as any right now. And as to the riverlands, you shall marry Catelyn Tully as your brother was supposed to do. Now either help me in planning this war or leave, I have much to do before we march for Riverrun.” His father says.


	3. Raging Storm

**Beginning Months of 282 A.C. Stormlands/ Reach**

**Lord Robert Baratheon**

Everything was happening too quickly for him to comprehend, one moment news had come of Lyanna’s disappearance and the rumours of that dragonspawn taking her. The next moment, news had come that Ned’s brother Brandon had been burnt alive alongside his companions by King Aerys and that the king had called for his and Ned’s heads. Their mentor Jon Arryn had refused to obey the king’s demands and had allowed Ned to return back home, whilst Robert had gone with Jon to Gulltown where they had fought a fierce battle with the lords who had remained with the dragonspawn. Robert had won that battle, he knew he had, slaying Marq Grafton and being the first one over the wall at Gulltown. Once victory had been achieved, Robert had boarded a ship to return to the Stormlands and Storm’s End.

He had returned to Storm’s End, and that was where he was now, sitting in his father’s solar discussing the matter of the war with his brother and maester Cressen. “I will not sit here, and wait for Aerys to send his men and die without a fight. I want to put up a fight and make sure that the Targaryens remember what it was that made them fear the laughing storm.”

His brother Stannis a moody bastard if ever there was one responds. “And how will you do that brother? The lords of the Stormlands do not know you as they did father, and as such there are those who harbour loyalties to the Targaryens. Connington, Grandison, Fell and Cafferen are those who I can name off the top of my head. How will you fight their combined might and still rally the rest of the lords to our cause?”

Robert groans, and says. “By the gods, man I do not know. I was merely hoping they would remember who it was who aided them when the king imposed higher taxes on them. But if it should come down to it, I would fight them and end them.”

“That might be for the best, after all the lords of the Stormlands are somewhat more prone to following martial lords. But then what are you going to do, and whom are you going to call?” his brother asks.

Robert looks at the maester and Cressen goes on and says. “Well, the Tarths, the Estermonts, the Donadarrions and some of the marcher lords are firmly loyal to Storm’s End, and to the memory of your father. So they will most definitely come when the ravens are sent out. As to the rest, well Boiling and Buckler have long held grudges against the Targaryens for things that have gone awry, so they are likely to side with you as well my lord. As to the others, I believe it would be safe to say that they will continue fighting for the dragons.”

His brother speaks then and his voice is hard as iron. “They would be following the way of their king and their oaths. Which is something of the right thing to do, but then again, with the king showing himself as the mad man that he clearly is, I do not know why they would. However, there is the issue of your betrothal brother. If the Lady Lyanna has indeed been taken by Rhaegar Targaryen, should you succeed, there will be questions over whether or not the lords of the Stormlands would wish for her to be lady of the Stormlands.”

Robert feels something inside clench. “She will remain my betrothed and I will marry her. This betrothal was made before Rhaegar Targaryen lost his senses, and became an arse. I will honour the betrothal and make her my wife, and when this is all said and done we shall have more power to do what we wish than to have to listen to the whims of lords who might well side with my enemy.”

His brother grits his teeth and says. “That, that is something that might be very risky when considering all that is to come brother. After all this is a war, an alliances are made and won by marriages as much as by a hammer or a sword. Lady Lyanna, might be of questionable legitimacy as a bride, after all with the time she might have spent with Rhaegar could raise questions of her children by you.”

Robert begins to seethe. “She will be my bride, end of story. And when this is all said and done the Targaryens will not sit the throne.”

His brother looks at him somewhat aghast and asks in a whisper. “You mean to remove the Targaryens from power completely? What has prompted this?”

Robert looks at him then and says harshly. “Aerys is a madman, it would be more prudent to remove him from power. And Rhaegar, Rhaegar is a fool and a rapist, I will not want him on the throne. Furthermore, his children still carry the same taint as him, I will not allow the man or further dragonspawn to continue.” His brother and the maester look at him somewhat surprised, and Robert snorts and says. “Well don’t look at me like that, send out the ravens Cressen and let us see what happens, and who comes and who does not.”

The man nods and later that day the ravens are sent out, and over the next few days most of the lords answer the call and come with their men. Estermont, Tarth, Boiling, Buckler, Dondarrion, Selmy, Swann and Caron and various others come bringing him some 10,000 men to fight. Lady Ester Dondarrion brings word of movement from the lords who have not turned up, Grandison, Fell, Cafferen Lonmouth all working together for the Targaryens. Robert seethes and rages and orders the march. They arrive in Summerhall some four days later, tired and exhausted but ready to fight. Robert commanding the vanguard, bellows and roars, having left Stannis to hold Storm’s End, swinging his hammer and bellowing commands and crunching through the enemy who come calling.

The wheeling of the van smashes into Cafferen and Fell hosts, men fall and die to their deaths and Robert roars on. Blood pumping in his veins and making the adrenaline course through his veins. He has never felt so alive, the Cafferen and Fell men are fighting for their lives, and as such Robert knows something will give eventually, he crushes his hammer into one man and then another, and roars and laughs. On they go, the host pushing through, Robert leading the charge, slaying one man after another with a swing of his hammer, covered in blood, and roaring and laughing as he goes on. Men fall and rise, and fall again, his hammer is a heavy weight, but it is a good weight, and so he pushes on. There are scores of bodies lying on the ground in the ruins of the place that was where the cunt was born, and so he pushes forward.

The battle rages like some sort of song, a tavern song the ones Robert likes best, and he hums a tune or two as he crushes his hammer against one lad and then another. His hammer is completely covered in blood and soot now, and his armour is dirt and mud but still he continues. They are winning this battle, already he has killed Richard Lonmouth the cunt’s former squire, and Silveraxe Fell a man of good repute and a fierce fighter. They push on and Robert continues swinging his hammer, laughing all the while. The ground is littered in bodies and bones now, blood, and mud cover the ground and still Robert and his men fight on knowing that it will be a long hard fight before the traitors surrender.

On they go, Robert can hear the sound of spears and swords and men fighting and dying with light and dark, their loves names on their lips. Good men, strong men, having to die because one man could not keep to his own wife. Robert growls in frustration and pushes on, the fighting continues on for some more time, before eventually the men left throw down their swords and the lords who betrayed Storm’s End are brought forward. Robert looks at them Lord Cafferen, Lord Fell and Ser Harlon Grandison and he feels something light inside of him, a bond, they are all fighting for what they believe to be right and so he pardons them and they swear fealty to him and recognise him as their liege and their king, and they move on. Plans are made for protecting their border, and so they move onto Ashford, dealing with whatever men Lord Ashford has with him before the Tyrell vanguard comes calling.

Ashford is hollow and a bitter fight, the men under Randyll Tarly’s command are somewhat bold and precise, and as such Robert and his men are tired and hard pushed to keep going, and yet they do. It is a fierce fight, and yet their numbers are nothing compared to the strength and the precision of the Tyrell vanguard, he wonders if they will be overwhelmed before shaking the thought from his head. He will not get Lyanna back by thinking like a scared old hag, and so he swings his hammer and bellows challenge after challenge, meeting all those who come to meet him and he kills them all. His armour and hammer, stained from Summerhall grow more and more stained but he laughs all the same. The laughing storm was his great grandfather, a fierce fighter by all accounts, and Robert wonders how he felt when he was fighting, and he thinks he would’ve liked the man. He swings his hammer once more crushing some ponce with an apple on his armour.

The fighting goes on and Robert continues leading the charge even as his own men fall around him, broken and torn, their armour crushed, and bleeding there is so much blood, Robert wonders if Ashford and the meadows around it will be renamed after the battle. Still he has to go on, for Lya and for the men who have fought and died today for him. The tide of battle brings him face to face with Ser Devon Tarly, the man is older than him more experienced, but also more tired, his swings which are precise in the beginning of their fight begin to waver, and still Robert finds himself struggling in the beginning his hammer weighed down by the sword Tarly wields. Their dance continues with both of them having their fair share of success though it is hard to tell through the dirt and blood already present.

They fight for a bit longer, steel and hammer clashing and sparks flying there is nothing else in Robert’s view but Tarly, and as they fight he notices some slight weaknesses in the man’s defence. The way his left arm bends slightly and how he often leaves his chest exposed for brief moments of time, Robert sensing that such a thing will be his only chance for victory in this fight, begins a relentless stream of pounding attacks on Tarly and as the man continues blocking his sword begins loosening in his hand and soon enough it goes flying from his hands. Robert roars in triumph and swings his hammer and crushes the hammer into Tarly’s chest making the man crumple into death.

He roars his triumph for all to hear and the remaining men of the Tyrell vanguard look to break, and he allows them do so, marvelling in his victory, but knowing all the while that it will not last long. Still there is one moment he can saver, Lord Selwyn Tarth comes to him in the aftermath of the Tyrell vanguard running presenting a boy with brown hair and hazel eyes with the Tyrell rose on his armour. “Tarly’s squire Your Grace. The boy was found next to his body.”

Robert looks at the lad who is clearly shaking in his armour and his boots. “Your name lad?”

“Willas Tyrell my lord.” The lad replies.

Robert feels something akin to surprise bloom, but keeping his voice calm he says. “Tyrell is it? Very well, Selwyn I want you to see to the lad here, we ride for the Stoney Sept. I do not want the Tyrells catching us now.” The man nods and heads off with Tyrell, and Robert wonders how the gods could think to shine so kindly on him, they have the Tyrell heir now. 


	4. Summer Into Winter

**Fourth Month of 282 A.C. Riverrun**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

It was strange if he thought about it, for so long he had looked forward to coming down to Riverrun for the union between his house and House Tully. Yet whenever he had pictured the wedding he had always seen Brandon and his smiling face there standing in the sept waiting for his bride to be to come, it had also been a time of peace. He had never thought that Ned, his quiet son, the boy who reminded him a lot of himself would be there marrying in Brandon’s place, and it felt some how odd and yet also natural. He had observed them over the few days they had been in Riverrun and his second son and Catelyn Tully seemed to get on, the girl certainly was dutiful. Their marriage had happened two days ago, and it had been a somewhat joyous occasion, or rather as joyous as such a thing in war time could be. He and Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully had all sat and watched with some amusement as the younger men amongst them took full part in the bedding ceremony. His son had done his duty and as such Rickard was confident a child would come from the union.

As of right now though, there were more important matters to attend to. A war council had been convened, and Rickard along with his son and heir, and two most powerful bannermen were in attendance alongside Lord Jon Arryn and his most powerful bannermen and Lord Hoster and his two bannermen who had made the journey for the marriage. Hoster Tully was speaking and it was clear the matter was serious. “Whilst most of my bannermen have remembered whom their first vow is to, it would appear some of them are closer to the dragons than to their own people. The Mootons, the Goodbrooks, the Darrys, the Smallwoods and a score of other lesser lords have all declare for the Targaryens and are mustering together to try and bring some sort of opposition to us.”

That was somewhat of a problem. “And where are they mustering my lord?” Rickard asked. “How many men do they have and is it enough to cause significant trouble for our plans?”

Lord Hoster was silent for a moment before he said. “They have managed to raise around 15,000 men together and it does seem that they are heading towards the Stoney Sept where King Robert is currently recuperating and seeing to his wounds. It would appear they mean to join up with Lord Connington’s host of crownlords as they advance forward.”

Rickard considered this for a long moment and then said. “Hmm, if Robert is indeed in the Stoney Sept then we have a problem, it does seem that we might have to divide the forces into three and hit the town from separate angles. After all Connington himself is a green boy and would be more eager to prove himself to the Targaryens than to use his actual brain. This could give us a large chance to sneak up on him.”

Lord Hoster considers this for a moment and then says. “You are suggesting we use King Robert as bait in order to lure Connington towards making a mistake that could cost him the battle and the war? It could be risky considering what we know of Robert and his forwardness, but I do believe it could work.”

Rickard nods and then Jon Arryn speaks, the man who had recently wed Lysa Tully, says. “It is a risky move, but it would work. Robert is someone who would want to fight in the forefront of it all. Though, there is the issue of what would happen should something go wrong with Robert it might be something that could destabilize the fighting, and the effort. After all he is the king we have chosen and as such we must ensure he is protected.”

Rickard nods. “Aye that would make sense, I would suggest the north enter into the Stoney Sept first as the main attack point. Connington will be looking out for some sort of danger, and it is better for us if we go into it full throttle.”

Lord Bracken speaks then. “And why the northmen and not our own Riverlords? Are you suggesting that we cannot actively do the same thing?”

Rickard holds his hands up placatingly. “I am not suggesting anything of the sort. All I am saying is that, having the northern host enter the town first, we can cause the distraction and allow the rest of the army to enter and rout the rest of Connington’s host. My men know what to do to cause distractions and they have been itching for a fight for a long time and I am merely asking for this to happen.”

Lord Bracken goes to protest and Hoster raises his hand and says. “It seems a reasonable suggestion, and something that could very well help us weaken his already fractious army. An army made up of traitors from various kingdoms something would break inside of them seeing the army of the north descending down on them.”

There is a lot of murmuring at that and then Rickard speaks once more. “Now that is settled, what is this business with Robert naming himself king? I had not thought that we were going to go with declaring Robert king until after the final battle whenever that might be.”

There is some more murmuring at that and then Jon Arryn speaks. “I must admit that I was the one who mentioned it to him. After all, with Aerys showing his true colours and burning men left, right and centre. And with Rhaegar having shown just how unreliable he can be by running off with your daughter the Lady Lyanna, none of us are sure just how true a king he can be. And of course with Rhaegar’s children being little more than babes, and Aerys’ other son being something of a child himself, it seemed the most logical option to tell Robert about the intentions we had as a backup for some time. And as such he has gone ahead and done the deed himself. He has won victories at Summerhall and something of a victory at Ashford. The realm is already taking note.”

Rickard nods. “Aye that does indeed make sense. Still there is a long way to go from here to King’s Landing. And we must find Rhaegar Targaryen.”

There is a lot of murmurs of agreement there and then Lord Wyman Manderly speaks. “This is all well and good, my lords but until we have a definite plan of attack for the coming battle we are going to be like a fish out of water, gasping for air and unsure of ourselves.”

Rickard looks at his old friend and smiles slightly, a rare occurrence. He speaks first as well. “Well seeing as we have all agreed that my men and I shall lead the first assault into the Stoney Sept, I do believe that splitting the northern host into two parts one attacking from the Father’s gate, and another part commanded by my heir Eddard coming in from the Mother’s gate. We shall enter and tie the noose around Connington’s host.”

Hoster nods and says. “Then I and my men shall form the men entering in from the Warrior and the Maiden’s gates. And we shall tighten the noose.

Jon Arryn speaks then. “And I and my own men shall form the men entering in from Smith and Crone gate. And finish off Connington and his men. There is one other concern that I have, and that is the issue of the Stormlands. Since Robert has headed to the Stoney Sept, he has left the Stormlands vulnerable to attack, and with his son missing Mace Tyrell has nothing stopping him from going completely mad and raiding and burning the Stormlands. There are limited men left in the Stormlands, but we can ill afford to send more men to aid them.”

Rickard nods at this and says. “There is not much more we can do to aid them as you have acknowledged Lord Arryn. They will need to fend for themselves until such time as we know more about what we can do, and until we have sorted out the Targaryens. I do not think Mace Tyrell will do anything too rash, after all he is still unsure of where his son is and as such would not want to risk the chance of losing his son.”

There are mutterings of agreement at this and then Lord Hoster speaks. “Aye, that does sound reasonable. Now there has been a lot of discussion today. Let us rest and ride out tomorrow.”

The meeting comes to an end but before they go to sleep that night Rickard finds himself speaking to his son. “So tell me son, how are you finding your bride?”

His son is silent for a long moment and then says. “Catelyn is a good woman, father. And she is also very smart and intelligent.”

“So I take it that you like her then?” Rickard asks somewhat amused.

His son blushes for a moment and then says. “Yes father.”

Rickard nods and then they depart and go to sleep, the next day they depart off for the Stoney Sept. Rickard knows that no matter what happens in this battle, the war will be decided one way or another, he does hope that it will end in their favour as he wishes to see his daughter again and he wants answer from the prince who took her. They ride along in silence each man within the army knowing their role and what must happen today. He merely nods at Ned when they come to the outline of the town, and as they go their separate ways, there is a pounding in his heart, and he remembers the previous times he had fought in war. The Ironsmith rebellion, and the nerves that had filtered through, the war of the ninepenny kings where he had clashed swords with the monster known as Maelys Blackfyre, and now this. Something would happen and he was determined to ensure that they came out on top during this battle.

They burst through the father’s gate, and soon enough they come through and fight the enemy coming from everywhere. His sword cleaves through one man then another, and another. The fighting begins swelling, he barks a command and the men under it swerve to the side and allow the royalist army to smash themselves to pieces against the pikes and spears of the mountain clans. This happens some three or four times, as more and more men from the crownlands screaming in their death throes, going through it again and again. Until, they wizen up and move away from the pikemen and towards the mounted men. Rickard sensing the change barks another command and soon they are forming up into a crescent formation, and they begin hammering down on the enemy.

Again and again the pass is made, and again and again they manage to break the lines of the enemy. The lords of the crownlands are breaking hard and fast, soon enough they will definitely come to a grinding halt sooner or later. The sound of horns being blown tell him that his son has managed to break the host on his side of the town, and so he keeps pushing his men all the harder, and soon enough the crownlanders he and his men are facing come to a shuddering halt and soon end up being culled. More and more horns are sounding showing that more of the army have entered the town and have broken the remenants of the enemy army. The sun is beginning to set as the enemy throws down their swords and spears and as such when it comes to it they hold a meeting in the hall of Ser Tom Hardy, the knight himself having been slain during the fighting. Robert Baratheon, the man they have all named as king speaks. “My lords I thank you for coming to my aid, it was most helpful and has aided in reducing the royalists chances of victory. We have broken through their ranks and slaughtered many of their generals and commanders. Jon Connington was captured and is being questioned as we speak.”

Rickard nods. “This is all good tidings. But we have suffered some severe losses, Lord Hoster himself is fighting for life, and as such we might need to wait for him to get better before we decide what our next move is going to be. We can be assured that Aerys will send the knights of the Kingsguard to gather what is left of Connington’s host. As such there are still some trouble makers left within our reach that must be dealt with.”

There is silence for a moment and then Jon Arryn speaks. “Aye, that will most definitely be something that we need to consider and look at. Especially as none of our sources had informed us as to Prince Rhaegar’s location. Sooner or later, we shall need to make a more loud noise as to that.”

Rickard nods and says. “Indeed. But first there is a lot we must do. We must first confirm our vows to the king.”

Jon Arryn nods and gets down on one knee and unsheathes his sword. “I Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Lord of the Vale do hereby swear my allegiance to you Robert Baratheon Lord of Storm’s End, and do recognise you as King of Westeros.”

Rickard follows suit and does the same as do the other lords gathered and soon enough cries of King Robert are all through the hall and the castle and the town. Robert Baratheon for better or for worse is their king now, meaning that Lyanna could very soon be the queen.


	5. A Lion In White

**Eighth Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

Being a knight of the Kingsguard had been something he had looked at and aspired to as a young boy, and when at fifteen he had been raised to that sacred order he had never been more proud. It was an honour to be considered the join the ranks of such prestigious knights as Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Gerold Hightower. He had been honoured and flattered, but then things had grown sour, instead of being given the chance to compete at Harrenhal the king sent him back to King’s Landing to guard over a child and the Queen, not the sort of glory he had thought he would earn for himself. He did not even have Cersei with which to comfort himself, for his father and she had returned to the Rock when news of his appointment had been made public and she remained in the Rock whilst he was here in King’s Landing. Listening to the things that haunted his dreams at night.

That King Aerys was mad was something he had never doubted, but listening to the man now, he wondered how the realm had gone on for so long in ignorance. The man had grown clearly worse as the moons had progressed and the war raged outside and Prince Rhaegar still could not be found. The king’s voice was high and shrill as he spoke. “ So that oaf Connington got himself captured did he? No doubt working alongside the traitors to make it seem as though he was my man. I always knew he was Rhaegar’s man, that boy would grovel for a place at the table like a dog, were it not for my son and his strange ways. Where are the rebels now?”

This was a meeting of his closest advisors and as such it was the eunuch who replied. “They are camped somewhere near the God’s Eye Your Grace. They have been working hard to remove any trace of loyalists from the riverlands. Why Lord Hoster himself only the other day stormed the villages of Lord Goodbrook and put them to the sword, scores of people dead. Lords Stark and Arryn have carried out campaigns against Lords Mooton and Darry and as such their forces are dwindling but so are the forces of the rebels.”

Grim tidings indeed, and yet the king seemed more concern about something else. “And what of the two knights I sent out to get the remaining men that that fool Connington had? Have they succeed or have they betrayed me as well?”

The eunuch was silent and then in a solemn voice said. “Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor have succeeded in bringing some 5,000 crownlords and some 4,000 Stormlords back from the Stoney Sept and are marching back to King’s Landing as we speak. As to what remains of the loyalist Riverlords, well they are struggling against the tide of the onslaught coming from the rebels.”

The king is silent a long moment and then his voice comes out a screech. “And what happened to the rest of the crownlords? Have they betrayed me as well? We sent thousands of men with Connington how is it possible that he lost so many men? The Stoney Sept is nothing but a small town not big enough for a complete carnage to occur. Was Connington so incompetent?”

There is a nervous silence as the king’s closest advisors seek to consider their next response. The eunuch speaks once more and says. “It was not Lord Connington’s fault, but the rebels seemed to have been aware of what sort of moves he would make. And as such they planned accordingly, from the survivors it would seem the north hit the town first and began despatching the men Connington sent forward. When the rest of the rebels arrived he stood not a chance.”

The king screams then. “Those blasted wolves once more coming and ruining everything. I always said to father that we should have had the Boltons put into power when we had the chance. Edwyle Stark was a bloody tyrant who always did nothing good, and as such his son is no better. The man’s own heir threatened us and died a deserving death. He has no cause for rebelling. As to his daughter, it is clear she is a whore and deserves to be treated as such.”

Again a nervous silence fills the room and then the king speaks once more. “Tell me master of whispers has my idiot of a son been found? He spends all day with his head up his arse and in books and then he runs away with a Baratheon betrothed, I did not think he had any balls. Ha.” The king laughs.

Varys once more speaks then. “It would appear that Prince Rhaegar is returning from wherever he has been. Our spies within the realm have reported seeing him riding hard from the Kingsroad, without accompaniment though. So it is clear that he has left Ser Gerold wherever he was found.”

Jaime tenses at that, something is happening here, the king senses it as well. “He is returning without any protection? Is the boy an idiot or merely incompetent? This is war and he leaves Hightower with the rest of his fools. I tell you now that he is plotting something and Hightower, Dayne and Whent are all part of it. No doubt he wants to remove me from my throne, but I shall not allow it. I shall not allow it!”

At this Lord Simon Staunton a lickspittle speaks. “Then act now Your Grace. Before Prince Rhaegar can come back and try and set things to right as he sees them, why not act now and remove him and his heirs from the succession? That way Prince Viserys is your only heir and can be groomed to be a true Targaryen King.”

Lucerys Velaryon speaks in agreement. “Aye that is the most reasonable course of action Your Grace. Rhaegar is a traitor, and his blood is tainted by it, what is there to say his children are not tainted with the same traitorous nature as their father? Prince Viserys is a good lad and would make a fine king.”

Jaime’s sword hand itched then wishing he could strangle Velaryon but he withheld the urge and sighed internally when Varys spoke. “Whilst Prince Viserys might be a good suggestion for an heir, one would be forgetting Dorne and no one can truly forget the Dornish for they add much to the strength and backing of the royal army. And as such we cannot afford to turn them against us.”

The king snorted and said. “I hold Doran Martell’s sister hostage and his nephew and niece, he is obliged to send men when the call comes. I shall need to remind him of this the fool. Now all of you leave and let me speak with the lion alone.” The lords bow and file out leaving only Jaime and the king in the room, the man looks at him his eyes large and fearful. “Tell me boy, what do you think of what has been said here today?”

Jaime is silent a long time considering his answer before responding. “I believe what Lord Varys said is the right course. Dorne must be reminded of whom it owes its loyalty to first and as such must also be tempted back into the fray.”

The king snorts. “Spoken like a true son of Tywin Lannister. Now tell me boy, what would your father do?”

Jaime hesitates now knowing that he is treading very dangerous ground and as such his response is slow and thoughtful. “I believe my father would tempt the rebels out and wait for them to make a mistake first.”

Aerys snorts and roars. “AND THEN HE WOULD COME AND STAB ME IN THE BACK.” He pants and breathes heavily then and then says. “I will not allow that to happen, you are a fool to believe I truly care what you do or think Lannister. I could kill you now and your father would be powerless. But I will not, hanging you like a bone to a dog, is much more amusing. Now send in Manly Stokeworth and leave.”

Jaime bows before the king and leaves sending Stokeworth into face the king’s increasingly erratic behaviour, dismissed for the night he leaves for White Sword Tower. He enters the place and finds it quite empty, no surprise there his sworn brothers are scattered and soon enough he shall be alone as well. Lewyn walks down from his room to join Jaime at the table where they take their meals. He seems refreshed and Jaime suspects his paramour is upstairs. Jaime likes the Dornishmen in this city of snakes and liars he is the only honest one left now that the others are gone. “How is the king this fair night?” his sworn brother asks.

Jaime grimaces as he takes a sip of wine and says. “Not well my prince, not well at all. Something troubles his mind as it often does and those sparrows keep twittering to him about this and that.”

Martell grimaces and says. “Aye, they can be the ones who often ail the king, though they claim to be helping him. Some days I swear they are merely looking out for their own purpose. And if we were not around they would kill him and have done with it. Who guards the king now?”

Jaime takes another sip of wine and says. “Ser Manly Stokeworth and Ser Janos Slynt. Stokeworth is good and true I am not sure about Slynt, he seems too keen for advancement to ever consider staying true.”

Lewyn snorts then and says. “Ah of course. But you must remember that not everyone is as honourable as us brother, nor is everyone as steadfast as us. Why even I am not as steadfast as some of our fellow sworn brothers, after all my love is upstairs and gods alone knows what Aerys would do if he knew.”

Jaime laughs then and says. “Depending on his mood either congratulate you or order you killed or both. Gods knows what is happening with that man. I do worry Lewyn, I worry for the safety of the queen and the princess and their children. Sooner or later the man will turn to look at them and think to use them. This tension between him and his son, cannot be good for the realm.”

Lewyn’s face darkens at mention of Rhaegar and his voice is unusually calm when he says. “Aye that is true, but whom are we to question the workings of the family? We are sworn to protect them and obey no? Not give our thoughts, even if perhaps our thoughts could aid in stopping them committing idiocy, such as what Rhaegar committed. Of course our brothers would tell us both to be quiet and to ensure we merely did our job, even Arthur, but his fire was extinguished long ago.”

Jaime has never heard such words from his friend’s mouth and asks. “How are the princess and the children doing? I would go to see them, yet the king demands all of my attention and as such I am not sure whether or not going to see them now would be the right thing to do.”

Lewyn’s face softens at the mention of his niece and her children and as such his voice reflects this. “They are well, Elia is doing well considering the circumstances but all in all some things are better left unsaid then said. She want for this war to be over, so that the children can be safe without worry. The children do well but they would benefit more from not having this war hanging over their heads. Still there are things we must do and we must accept that. For one thing the king has asked me to go south to Dorne to remind my nephew about this.”

Jaime looks at his friend with some surprise. “So the king has already spoken with you about going to Dorne? Varys only brought it up today, so I thought it was something new.”

“Then it was a setup, the King spoke with me four days ago about it. And as such I must make a move now otherwise he will send some other scumbag to go and do it. Be careful of the spider Jaime, he is more dangerous than you realise.” His sworn brother says before heading upstairs.

How true those words would be from his sworn brother, the last piece of advice he would ever give Jaime, before joining death’s welcoming embrace.


	6. Maiden In A Tower

**10 th Month of 282 A.C. Tower of Joy**

**Princess Lyanna Targaryen**

Oh how she wished for the early days of romance, when she and her prince had given themselves over to careless abandon making love wherever they chose and not giving a damn about propriety. It was a change from the restrictions she had faced at Winterfell, where her mother and father though content to allow her to roam around like a ruffian as a girl, had begun imposing far more restrictions on her as she had flowered and turned into a young woman. There was no disapproving eyes watching her as she played and fucked her silver prince, there was no septa as there had been in Harrenhal telling her how to be a prude. No she and her prince could enjoy one another for who they were, and because they were married- wed before the godswood on the Isle of Faces- they could do it as often as they liked without needing fear of constraint.

And then Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had arrived and shattered their little bubble. He had brought dark words with him, bad tidings, for her brother upon learning of her disappearance from Harrenhal had charged into King’s Landing demanding Rhaegar come out and die, and for that crime he had been roasted alive alongside his companions, her brother was dead because of her and because she had not thought to leave anything behind, their wolf’s blood had cost them dearly.  Her brother was dead and her father was rebelling against the crown for revenge and to put her former betrothed Robert Baratheon on the throne. The king it seemed wanted his son back to lead the royal armies and so Rhaegar had gone, even though she had pleaded with him not to go, saying she was pregnant and that he could not leave her and their babe alone. That Robert was a trained warrior and though he whilst good could not hope to stand against him. Her husband had smiled, kissed her and merely said he had to go otherwise everything would be for nothing. She could not understand, and then it dawned on her something more was at play here for her husband and her heart had gone cold.

Her husband had been gone for nearly two moons now and there was nothing she knew of the situation. The Kingsguard did not speak with her, they just guarded her and made sure she did not try to escape. But really where was she going to go? Dorne was hostile towards her, the Daynes knew she was here and sent aid mainly because of Ser Arthur but they did nothing more, even Lady Ashara no longer came to visit and she had been a constant presence in the early days. All she had for company was her lady in waiting who had been with her from the beginning Wylla, Wylla was a year older than Lyanna herself, and was full of fire and passion but also the common sense that Lyanna thought she herself lacked. And as such she was now noticing her mistress’s attitude. “Oh smile Your Grace, it’s not as if things could be any worse. You have food, water and me for company what more could you want? That silver haired shit, who could barely look at you when news came of Brandon’s death?”

Lyanna looked at her handmaiden and said. “It’s not just that, I cannot understand how he could leave now? Why would he leave now before he knows his own son or daughter? How could he just go?”

Her handmaiden smiled sadly at her and said. “Because he is a man princess, and men always think that the best way to sort things out is with swords and not words. Truly your prince was a bit of a fool thinking something like this might not happen. I am not a noble, but even I know that taking you without a word was something risky. And if I might say so myself, you were not as smart as you might think my lady. You allowed yourself to be swept into a whirlwind with dragons and now all is falling.”

There was truth to her handmaiden’s words but she did not wish to acknowledge it. “I do not believe that what we did was so foolish. We were both unhappy with what our lot in life was to be. Why could we not have some happiness? Robert says he is fighting for me, but he did nothing when I was taken, and neither did my father. Why should I not have happiness when men can find it anywhere?”

She knows she is being naïve but still, the look Wylla gives her sends something akin to rage boiling through her, as do the words her handmaiden speaks. “Because that is not the way the world works my lady. In this world, we woman are mere pawns in the games the men play. Be it our fathers or our brothers or husbands, we are used for their whims and as such we must accept this. For there are women who can fight, but sooner or later we are all broken by the whims of men and we must try to avoid the fallout as much as possible for when it comes we shall all suffer.”

Lyanna bristles then and says. “I refuse to accept my fate weakly like some sort of weak witted woman. I will fight, I have a mind, I have a tongue, and I shall use both to argue my case until I cannot fight anymore. And now I am not merely a lady, I am a princess and I shall have fight to have my rights and that of my child preserved. They cannot do anything to us so long as I remain strong.”

Her handmaiden sighs then and says. “And what do you think Robert Baratheon would say to that my princess? He would not want to see the source of his disgrace constantly paraded around his face. Do not delude yourself, you know that Prince Rhaegar cannot win, he has not fought in a proper battle before, and Robert Baratheon has fought in many by now. They will fight and one will die, and nothing can change that. No matter what happens there on the field where they meet, you and your child would be suspect to the whims of men.”

“Then I shall remove the child from harm and ensure that it never faces the woes of this place.” Lyanna says defiantly.

Her handmaiden looks at her then and Lyanna finds her defiance wavering. “Tell me princess, would you truly see your child killed? You are not someone who would abide by that, nor are you someone who would want to be parted from their child. I know for it has happened to me, and we are like sisters you and I.”

Lyanna is taken aback by this and asks. “What happened to you Wylla, I did not know you had had a child?”

Her handmaiden gives a sad little laugh and says. “Oh aye. There was some lord or the other who came to Winterfell once before we all went south, and we had a romance, I had thought it was true love. But alas I was merely the source of his infatuation for that time period. He was wild, and I loved him but he did not love me. My child was taken and given away to hide the shame of the man and his father.”

Lyanna suspects she knows who her handmaiden is talking about but she does not wish to know completely lest it ruin her memory of the man. “Do you know what happened to your child Wylla?”

“He is growing up somewhere in the clans, with my father and mother. He will never know me but he will know his family and when the time comes he shall come to know me but never as his mother.” Her handmaiden says sadly.

Lyanna feels something akin to sadness bloom inside of her and she takes Wylla’s hand and says. “When this is done, we shall go and see your son Wylla. I would much like to know him and perhaps he and my son or daughter could be friends one day? But now, what do you think those three knights downstairs are discussing?”

Her friend has a small smile on her face that truly makes her look beautiful and her voice is soft when she says. “Probably discussing the best way to plan an escape should something go wrong. After all the child in your belly is a royal prince or princess, and as such it is their duty to ensure your and its protection. Though the fact that Hightower has remained here suggests to me that perhaps there is something more going on here. Rhaegar Targaryen would not leave the Lord Commander behind unless there was something going on.”

Lyanna once more astounded by how observing her friend is says. “That is true, Rhaegar did say he did have plans for when we returned to King’s Landing. Though leaving all three Kingsguard here does seem a bit too extreme. And when I asked him about it, he was always so evasive I am not sure if he even knows what he is doing half the time.”

Wylla snorts. “That’s men for you. Never wanting to talk about anything that might interfere with their drive for love or sex or whatever it is they call it. Sometimes I wonder if they can even think at all. But then again something is definitely happening, shall we see if we can hear what they are discussing princess?”

Lyanna nods and so they move closer to the window where echoes of the conversation drift up. She can hear what sounds like Ser Arthur’s voice. “We cannot remain here for too long. Sooner or later someone will come calling and we shall not have my brother’s protection to answer with should they ask what we are doing.”

“And you are certain that your brother will not extend his protection any longer than the next four moons?” the bull like voice of Ser Gerold asks wafting up.

There is silence a moment and then. “I do not know, all I know is that when I last spoke to my brother he was preparing to leave for King’s Landing alongside the rest of the Dornish host. And as such said something would need to be done about the Princess when he returned. As not everything is going to be as it was before.”

The dry voice of Ser Oswell comes up to their ears. “Of course nothing is going to be the same. Prince Rhaegar has seen to that, the realm is bleeding now and we are left to guard a woman and her handmaiden. We should be there getting ready to fight, but no we have to stay and aid in guarding the woman because of the man’s precious prophecy.”

“Ser Oswell I would remind you that we are bound to obey the king. And as we all chose Rhaegar as our king, we are bound by his orders. We cannot question them no matter how much we might wish to.” The voice of Ser Gerold echoes up.

“Oh come off it Gerold, don’t tell me you are happy with this. The war is going to be decided soon enough and we are merely sat here waiting and watching for some bastard to come and try to get into this tower. Only Lord Arel Dayne knows about this tower no one else does. What more could be done?” Oswell asks.

Lyanna pulls away from the window, and looks at Wylla stunned. She had thought that the Kingsguard liked her, that they were friends, but now, now she does not know what to make of it. She looks at Wylla and says. “I…. I…”

Her friend nods her head and says. “I know my princess, we must act as if we did not hear. Otherwise they will begin suspecting.”


	7. Silver Prince

****

**10 th-12th Month of 282 A.C. King’s Landing and the Trident**

**Prince Rhaegar Targaryen**

During his journey from the tower of King’s Landing he had had a lot of time to think over the various things he had done. All of it had been driven by the need for prophecy and fulfilling it, it was the need of achieving the three heads and making sure Westeros was prepared for the darkness to come. People had questioned him and asked if it were truly worth it, and of course it was, he had said as much. The fate of the world rested on him making sure his son, his Aegon had his two sisters. That was where Lyanna had come in, her fire, and her fight, her love for life had attracted him to her, Harrenhal that was where the song had begun, and it was at Harrenhal were they had consummated their feelings for one another. They had spent the months following that they had consummated their love for one another many times, and had developed a keen bond through their love of songs and history. But over the course of his stay in the tower he had made sure to keep checking that she would deliver his third head, his Visenya. And when she had told him she was with child, he had been ecstatic, finally the three heads would come together and soon the prophecy would be complete and the eggs he had found in Summerhall could be hatched.

And then Ser Gerold had come and broken their little dream, Brandon Stark was dead, burnt alive, ruined and all because Rhaegar had taken Lyanna from Harrenhal and now things were beginning to fall apart, war had broken out and the realm was bleeding. Rhaegar had had to leave his wife and his unborn daughter behind and return to King’s Landing, where he had learnt the true nature of his father and the situation in the capital. His father growing more and more mad had called him into speak with him. “So you have come back to finish what you have started have now boy? Come to remove your father from the throne and sit your own bony arse? Where is the Stark whore boy?”

Rhaegar sighs and responds. “No father, I have not come to remove you from the throne, and I have not come to endanger the throne or the family. As to where the Lady Lyanna is, she is safe and sound away from the fighting.”

“Ah so she is somewhere in the darkness of that hell of your wife is she? Or is she your wife boy? Have you tried to become Aegon the Dragon once more? I would love to see you try to bring the dragons back boy, you are no true dragon. I doubt that you will succeed boy. I am not even sure you are my son. With your obsession with books, pah, no true dragon needs books.”

Rhaegar sighs once more fighting the urge to snap at his father. “My life and the lives of my wife and children are none of your concern. It is my concern and I will deal with it when the time comes. As to the Lady Lyanna she is indeed something regarding my plan and as such she shall produce a child who will aid the family.”

Aerys snorts once more. “Of course, you are your books. I should do as my councillors’ advice and disinherit you the moment this battle is done. Win the war and disinherit you, aha, how my uncle would laugh at that. Gods’ boy, you are so naïve to believe you can control destiny. I am the only one who can truly control destiny for I am the dragon and none shall stand before me. Now leave me before I have you killed.”

Rhaegar bows once before his father and then leaves the throne room grimacing as he does so. He walks down the halls of the Red Keep and finds himself in the nursery looking at his son and daughter as they sleep, and then looks at his wife and asks softly. “How long have they been sleeping?”

His wife barely looks up at him as she replies. “About twenty minutes or so. So how did it go with your father?”

Rhaegar is silent for a long time and then running a hand through his hair and says. “I do not know whether or not the man is mad or if he has just decided that making my life hell is his new purpose in life.”

His wife looks at him then and her voice is soft when she says. “You did bring this about by yourself Rhaegar. Running away with the Stark girl was not a smart move and whilst it might have fulfilled some dusty necessity in that old tome you are so fond of reading, it has brought nothing but pain to the realm. Her brother is dead, and now her father and other brother as well as her betrothed are fighting to see her freed and to remove your family from the throne. Our children’s lives are in danger because of this.”

The words hurt but still there is anger there as well. “I have done all that I have done to ensure that the danger that is coming is nullified and eliminated, the three heads will ensure this and the dragons will aid them. Her family and loved ones are not pushing for this is because they have turned their eyes away from the true purpose of the wall and their own purpose in the world. As such I do not think Aegon and Rhaenys need fear the usurper and his swords for I am not, going to fall in this fighting. I will come back and then we may have further discussions on this matter.”

His wife looks at him somewhat nonplussed. “You truly do not see where you have gone wrong do you? A man and his companions were burnt alive because you had the audacity to run away with a girl who was not your wife. You like history so much, and yet you did not think to take note of what might happen should your course of action back fire. Robert Baratheon is fighting to remove Aerys from the throne, but he is also fighting to get his betrothed back. That much has been abundantly clear to all of us. There is not much that can be done, my uncle should be here any day now and as such when that time comes I presume you shall march?”

Rhaegar stunned by his wife’s ferocity merely says. “Yes, yes we shall march as soon as the king gives us the go ahead.”

Prince Lewyn arrives with 10,000 Dornish spears and a harsh few words for Rhaegar, the king begins plotting something or the other in his head and then gives the go ahead for them to leave. And so on the twelfth day of the eleventh month of the 282nd year after Aegon’s Landing Rhaegar and his men numbering some 35,000 prepare to ride forth from King’s Landing. Before he departs though, he has one last conversation with a knight he has high hopes for. “Ser Jaime, I trust you do not feel too hard done by, being left behind.” He says.

The young knight all of sixteen and bold as brass, his white armour and cloak glistening in the wind protests. “I am young and I can fight. You know how good a fighter I am your grace. Please let me come with you, leave Ser Jonothor in my place. I can help you!”

“Battle is not something to take lightly Ser Jaime.” Rhaegar says. “It takes time and patience, and we shall be fighting against men who are trained and who are experienced. This is not the frenzy of the Kingswood Brotherhood. This is true battle and I would not risk you in this not now.  I have bigger plans for you.”

The knight of Lannister protests and says. “But Your Grace, I am quick and I am young. I can easily defend you just as well as Ser Jonothor or even Ser Barristan.”

Darry mounting his horse snaps at the young knight then. “When you joined the Kingsguard, you swore to obey. So obey and do not question the prince.”

The young knight looks at Jaime somewhat despondently and Rhaegar taking pity on the man says. “My father has begun to fear our cousin Robert, but he fears your father more. I shall not take this last crutch away from him. When the time comes I shall call a meeting, there were things that need to be discussed that should have been discussed before. But alas it does no good to focus on the past. Protect my wife and children Ser Jaime, and when I return I shall speak to you about what I have planned.”

With that he mounts his own horse and rides off, there are crowds cheering but he knows one way or another there will be no cheering upon the arrival of the victors. There will be screams and cries, this much he has seen in his dreams. It saddens him and as such he wonders whether the fighting is worth it, and then thinks of the darkness to come and he knows it is worth it. Robert Baratheon would bring the realm to ruin and beggar it. Better he fight now and kill and possibly die than not fight at all. They arrive at the right bank of the God’s Eye and set up camp, Rhaegar can see the beginnings of the rebel camp in the dim light and he looks at the river where two of his ancestors fought and died and he suspects that something similar will happen again today.

Once they have had camp set up and there are various things having been set up and obtained he calls a war council. His men look tired but hungry for battle, and he wonders why he is the only one with nerves jangling in his gut. He clears his throat and speaks. “Now, we all know why we are here. The rebels are camped on the left bank of the river, and as such there is much and more and we can learn about their formations and their weaknesses.”

Lord Adrian Celtigar and old and grizzled man speaks then. “Indeed we can Your Grace. The rebels seem to be looking for a aurochs formation, and will have Robert Baratheon commanding the head of the buffalo. It would look as if they are meaning to storm across the river and take us unawares mainly through Robert Baratheon’s mad charge with the head of the formation to pierce through our own formation aiming to get through to you.”

Rhaegar nods and then says. “Indeed it would make sense. Seeing as Robert Baratheon has declared himself as King, he would want to bring the main charge against us. This would therefore want me to face the man himself. I am the crown prince, and it is me he wants to face and as such it would make sense for me to face him.”

There is murmuring at that and Lord Edwyle Darry speaks. “But Your Grace, surely that does put you at more risk than ever. After all, Robert will look to kill you and do the most harm to the cause of the king and the throne. Surely commanding from the reserve would make the most sense? After all, Robert Baratheon, would expect that you command from the vanguard. Commanding from the reserve would make sure that the man is exposed and then we can crush him between the pincers.”

Rhaegar takes this into consideration and then shakes his head. “Whilst what you say makes sense, I must be the one to face Robert. Anything else will be seen as weakness on my part, and as such I will command the vanguard and will be the one to break Robert Baratheon and end this fight.” There is some more murmuring and then he speaks once more. “I shall command the vanguard, Ser Barristan shall command the left, Ser Jonothor shall command the right and Prince Lewyn shall command the centre. Lord Celtigar shall command the centre.” With that the meeting comes to an end and Rhaegar retires to his tent and when the sign comes that there is deployment, and Rhaegar finds himself armoured and mounted.

Soon enough, they are galloping towards the field of battle, and they meet in the crash of steel and hooves. The water of the God’s Eye, is somewhat deep but not deep enough to cause too much trouble for them. Rhaegar swings his sword and manages to bring two men down with the blade. The sword is heavy in his arms and yet it swings and clings beautifully, and as such more and more men begin to fall, he barks commands and soon enough they are smashing through the rebel host. Cleaning through man after man, their bodies beginning to fill the river up and make it burst soon enough. Still no sign of Robert, yet Rhaegar does not worry he knows that sooner or later they will come face to face and then he shall win.

More men come pushing through the banks and more men die, and Rhaegar and his protection continue swarming them over and over again. The vanguard of the rebel host is being careless and Rhaegar wonders what has caused that he is not sure, but he knows something is up. Robert Baratheon has not come into sight just yet, and still men are coming to die at his hand, his sword is covered in red and his armour has a few dents in it, but still it is strong and holds. His eyes are growing weary, and his body is screaming for relief and yet he continues onward. His men follow him, into the bowels of the seven hells they go, the water in the God’s Eye has turned red and as such he begins to wonder if perhaps choosing this place for battle was truly the right thing to do.

There is a deafening roar, and then Rhaegar sees stag antlers coming into view and then a bellow. “RHAEGAR!” And so Robert Baratheon has come to meet his death, they ride towards one another, all else blurring into the darkness, and they begin their dance. Robert his anger riding high, swings his hammer with lightening ferocity, Rhaegar just about manages to block the first two blows but, the third one hits his arm and sends a jolt of pain rocketing through it. He grimaces inside but pushes on, he feints to the right and when Robert goes to follow him, he pokes his sword through the gap in the man’s defences and manages to nick him in the chest, the Baratheon grunts and then brings his hammer up to smack Rhaegar from his horse.

Rhaegar is still reeling from the pain of the blow to this head when he sees Baratheon has dismounted and is advancing towards him. He groans and manages to stand up in time to block another blow, and then another. And then another, this time though he uses what strength he has to force Baratheon back and begins his own set of piercing jabs and cuts and hacks, forcing the man onto the back foot, grunting as he does so. Baratheon roars and begins forcing him back, swinging his hammer like a man possessed. Intent on their individual strengths and weaknesses they push against one another, forcing both of them to consider one another and as such they begin looking for weaknesses in each other and when they find them they exploit them. Robert has cuts and bruises all over his armour and Rhaegar himself knows that he is covered in blood whether it is his own or Robert’s he does not know, and then that is when a roar comes from the Baratheon and then Rhaegar feels something like a rock falling on him, his sword falls from his hands and blood begins pouring into his mouth he falls to his knees. The world begins to spin, Robert stands over him smug and triumphant, as the final blow comes Rhaegar says the one word that comes to his head and the one word that he can think of. “Lyanna.” And then the world goes black.


	8. Blood Red Skies

**1 st Month of 283 A.C. God’s Eye**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

The battle, the battle that would decide the war had come to an end. Robert Baratheon the king they had all chosen had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen’s chest in with his war hammer and as such his rubies were scattered in the river bank where Targaryens had fought in the past. Whilst Robert had been winning his crown Rickard and his own men had been fighting the lords of the Riverlands beating them down and breaking them into different parts. Jonothor Darry had died by Rickard’s own hand, Ice slitting the bastard’s throat, and from there the loyalist Riverlords had begun to scatter and Rickard sensing the chance to get vengeance on them. They were routed and destroyed and by that point Robert had already killed Rhaegar Targaryen and the battle was over, the loyalists were scattered and their prince was dead there was nothing more to do. And yet now it seemed Robert was not entirely sure of himself.

“You have just won the most important battle of this war Your Grace. There is no doubt in my mind that when we come to King’s Landing, they will willingly throw open their gates to you and welcome you as their saviour.” Rickard says.

The king looks somewhat relieved and then says something Rickard is not sure he was truly expecting. “My lord, whilst I thank you for your support and your aid in this war, there is something that has been bothering me for a long time. I was wondering what you could tell me about Lyanna’s time in Harrenhal. Whilst everyone says she was abducted there are a few things that do not match up.”

Rickard looks at the man and then asks. “And what would you wish to know about her time there Your Grace?”

Robert looks at him and then asks. “Well she was in Harrenhal for three moons and in that time not once did her ever said any letters to me, though I did send many countless ravens to her asking about her daily routines and what she felt. And yet, according to Lord Walter Whent, she sent countless ravens to various people though he never specified whom. I wonder if you could perchance tell me what you know about these ravens.”

Rickard is silent for a moment and then says. “Well Your Grace, all I know is that she wrote to Brandon and myself about various things that were going on in Harrenhal, and as such there was not much more of note that was going on during her time there. There was no mention of anything out of the ordinary, merely the tasks that she had been assigned to do during her time in Harrenhal. Why ever do you ask?”

The king looks at him a moment, and then says. “I know this might not make sense to you but when Rhaegar Targaryen was dying he said one word, and one word only.” The king pauses and Rickard feels something in his gut clench, he suspects what the man is about to say next. “He said Lyanna’s name my lord. And I have begun wondering why that might have come to be. Why would such a man say the name of another man’s betrothed, unless there was something going on there?”

Rickard looks at him stunned a sense of fear coming into his gut. “What are you suggesting Your Grace? That my daughter has willingly run away with Rhaegar Targaryen? I do not believe that to be the case, my daughter is not a woman who would break a betrothal with anyone simply to run away with a married man.”

The king looks at him then and his voice dangerously low says. “Then how do you explain the fact there was no communication between her and Ned before her supposed disappearance? How do you explain the fact that there was no communication between yourself and her before disappearance and even afterwards. I do not believe Lyanna is the type of person to be forcibly kidnapped, she would have put up a fight and she would definitely would have left some signs behind to inform us. That she did not seemingly leave a trail as shown by the fact that no one could find her, and the fact that she did not seem to put up a fight, would it not be reasonable to suggest that she went with the man willingly, perhaps even begged him to take her?”

Rickard feels a sinking sensation in his gut and says his voice somewhat soft. “What reason would she have for asking him to take her though Your Grace? She never once voiced any complaints about the betrothal to me or that I know of. She seemed perfectly happy to be marrying you Your Grace.”

The king is deathly silent for a long time and then he eventually says. “I know for a fact that she was not particularly happy with the fact that I have a bastard daughter in the Vale. Or that my reputation apparently precedes me wherever I go. Ned told me of these doubts that was why I wrote to her so often. That she never responded has made me wonder that perhaps there was something there.”

“I assure you Your Grace, there is no substance to these thoughts. So what if she did not like the fact that you had a bastard. Lyanna knows somewhat more of the world than most girls her age, she knows that a man has needs, and that as such you would not have brought the child to your home in Storm’s End. She had no grounds to run away and do something so dishonourable and against her duty.” Rickard responds.

The king broods over this for a long time and then says. “It could be true, it could not be. Regardless she shall still be my queen when all said is done. I will not be swayed by anything else that my advisors say, we agreed on a betrothal and it shall stand no matter what anyone else has actually said and done.” With that the king leaves and Rickard does not seem him again until the council called by the king meets in the main tent. The king looking a little worse for wear, clearly the milk of the poppy had been taking its effect, speaks. “Well my lords, we have won the battle, Rhaegar Targaryen is dead, and the royalists are broken and defeated. All that is left now is King’s Landing, and that shall fall easily enough. But before we can march onto King’s Landing there is the issue of what to do with those lords we captured who fought for the Targaryens.”

Jon Arryn speaks. “Well Your Grace, I believe that they should be offered a pardon and a second chance. After all they were merely doing their duty, and as such pardoning them would be a great sign of peace and would show you to be a king who is willing to allow past things lie. A great difference to Aerys.”

“And what of those who refuse to be pardoned, as we know Velaryon, Celtigar and others are refusing to bend the knee. And that is something I will not accept. I will not allow for Targaryen loyalists lords such as them to get away unscathed. I have offered them olive branches and as such I will not allow them to grow more obtuse against me. Either they bend or they die.” Robert bellows.

 Jon Arryn looks at the king and then at them as a whole, and then says. “Well what sort of terms would you offer them then? This is where things must be sorted not with a hammer but with words and letters. Offer them something a bone if you will, and they will begin looking to you not as a usurper and more of a King and a conciliator like your ancestor Jaehaerys the wise.”

Rickard smiles somewhat, Arryn has done well there, playing on Robert’s ego and making him seem the hero king. Robert Baratheon seems pleased by this and then asks. “What do you suggest then Lord Arryn? What terms?”

Jon Arryn is silent a moment and then says. “Give them some concessions something regarding to trade and such. Make them want to side with you against Aerys, those who do not want to bend they may as well be left here for the green men to deal with.”

The king seems happy by this and then says. “Very well then see to it that these terms are offered to them. Those that refuse may feed the carrion crows. There are more issues that need to be discussed are there not. Especially the issue of Ser Barristan Selmy. Bring the man in.” Ser Barristan Selmy, a knight of the Kingsguard, a fame knight is brought forward bound in chains, battered and bruised. He is put before the king and the council standing and when he looks at them all, there is an air of defiance about him. The king seems to admire the man and his voice has some deference when he speaks. “Ser Barristan Selmy, you are a knight of Aerys Targaryen’s Kingsguard. You were captured during the battle of the god’s eye, your sworn brothers Jonothor Darry and Prince Lewyn Martell are dead slain in battle. You have been brought here to plead for your life, why should we not kill you?”

The man is silent for a long moment and then speaks his voice calm and level. “I will not try to plead my case for extending my life. I have fought and done my duty towards the true King and his family, I have fought alongside my brothers and done my best to ensure their victory. I will not plead for a life that stopped meaning when Prince Rhaegar died by your hand.”

There is a lot of murmuring at this and sensing something might go awry Rickard speaks. “Ser Barristan, whilst none here can question your loyalty and sense of duty towards the Targaryens and Prince Rhaegar, there is the issue of whether or not you are not seeing the bigger picture.  Bend the knee Ser Barristan and you shall continue the good of the realm. You must know what Aerys is, he is a mad man, and he has asked you to do things that I am sure would have made you wonder about yourself and the vows you swore to the Kingsguard and to the knights of the dawn when you became a knight. Think on that before you decide to throw your life away.”

There is more murmuring at that and then King Robert says. “We shall give you some time to consider your decision you may leave just now.” The man then leaves and once he is gone, Robert speaks once more. “Having Ser Barristan could definitely be of a benefit, he is a knight of well renown and will most definitely aid in beating down the Targaryen loyalists.”

 Roose Bolton speaks then his voice soft. “Barristan Selmy is the type of man who could be very problematic for your reign Your Grace. He is the type of man who can inspire loyalty and yet he is a Targaryen man through and through, keeping him alive will confuse those who fought for you, and will make those who fought against you rally all the harder for the Targaryens.”

Rickard speaks then. “A valid concern were this someone else. But Ser Barristan Selmy is a man whose word is his honour, and whose vows mean more than your average knight. The knights of the dawn are men whose word is their bond, he will know that and will know he failed in living up to their standards he will want another chance. King Robert offers him this chance.”

Bolton looks as if he wants to argue back but merely holds his tongue at a look from Rickard. Robert then calls Selmy back into the room and then asks. “So have you decided on a course of action then Ser Barristan?”

Ser Barristan is silent for a long moment and then eventually he gets down on one knee and says. “I do hereby renounce all loyalty to the Targaryen dynasty and King Aerys, and do hereby recognize you Robert Baratheon as King of Westeros and the only true king that there will be from now until your heirs are born.”

“Arise then Ser Barristan the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.” Robert says.

There is some feasting done that day, and a few days later Rickard his men ride out for King’s Landing preparing for the final taking of this long war, he will see his daughter soon and he will get his revenge on Aerys for Brandon. He is coming for Aerys Targaryen and now there is nothing to stop him.


	9. Vows, which vows?

**3 rd Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

News of the God’s Eye, had come on dark wings and sent King’s Landing into a frenzy, the prince was dead and now there was nothing standing in the way of the rebels and Robert Baratheon. The king had gone mad with rage and burnt many people who had brought the news, and had seen many of his advisors dealt harsh blows, in his rage and grief over his son’s death. Considering that Rhaegar and Aerys had never seen close in the first place but he supposed that it was natural there would be anger. Qarlton Chelstead’s body was still dangling somewhere in the throne room and every time Jaime looked up he could see the corpse charred as it was dangling like a sweet at a fair, and the smell by the gods it was horrible. The king however did not seem to mind the smell in fact he seemed to revel in it. “So Lord Simon what do you make of the smell and the sight of this new addition to the throne room? It makes quite a nice change to the dullness of the room otherwise.”

Simon Staunton a boneless man merely nods and says. “Yes indeed it does Your Grace. Chelstead was a traitor and they do always make the best sort of cooked meat. But there is more news coming in that we must speak of.”

The king looks somewhat intrigued and asked. “What more interesting news is there? After all there are traitors coming for my city, and there are people coming for my wife and child. What more news could there be that is not something I can deal with? Have the dragons hatched?”

Staunton looked somewhat taken aback at this but quickly hurries on. “Tywin Lannister has decided to strike out and is marching out from the Westerlands towards King’s Landing. It does seem as though he will be here quite soon. Furthermore Lord Rickard Stark and his northern savages are pushing hard for King’s Landing as well.”

Jaime heard the king laugh then. “SO the wolf and the lion are pushing towards King’s Landing are they? Very good, very good. Stark and Lannister, have never gotten along and as such I believe very much so that there would be a long battle between them. Perhaps they will both die and then we can claim the spoils. So tell me Staunton, what news is there of the dragons?”

Staunton once again looking somewhat taken aback by this repeated question but then takes up the thread of the conversation. “They seem to be doing well Your Grace. The eggs are warming up and soon enough they shall be ready to hatch. But a question for you Your Grace, should things go south for us what should be the plan for the eggs?”

The king cackles then and says. “With what I have planned the eggs will not be eggs. They will be true dragons. And as such they will be there to bring about the end of the rebels and the Lannisters. This should be something to be celebrated, already my wife and son have gone. But then someone will want the Dornish scum to have the dragons and that is something I cannot allow. Staunton go and make sure no one speaks to the Dornish whore of this, and Rossart come forward.”

Rossart steps forward then and his slimy voice comes forth. “Your Grace, the wildfire is all in place. It is just waiting for your command. Give the order and we shall create the biggest dragon birth this world has ever seen. And the black dread will come back to life and your enemies will burn before you.”

The mad king, for that is what Jaime has begun calling the man in his head, laughs loudly. “Good, soon the world shall quake and dragons will come and the enemy shall burn all the world shall know the true strength of the dragons. No longer shall we cower in fear, we shall roar our strength and our words will come anew.”

Rossart is about to speak when Pycelle and Varys enter the throne room both looking somewhat haggard and out of breath. “Your Grace, word has come from the gates. It seems Tywin Lannister has beaten the Stark host here and is requesting entry.”

Aerys cackles then. “Ah good, so now the lion has come to beg for entry and forgiveness. I have long waited this day for when the lion bows before me and asks for me to raise him up only to kill him. How many men has he brought?”

Pycelle speaks then. “He has brought 12,000 men with him Your Grace. And I do believe these men can bring about the defence of the city and defeat the northern host that is coming. With regards to the city with the remaining strength of the crownlords here we have enough to ably defend the city as well. Open the gates and allow Tywin to come in.”

Jaime looks upward, and sees the king considering this and there is a moment of lucidity. “Ah Tywin, my old friend. How good it would be to defend the city together like we said we would do when we were children. Ah how good it would be to see him again. But then treachery always has been in your nature, Joanna, and the children, you took them from me and made them your own.”

Varys speaks then his voice calm. “Your Grace, I would strongly advice against opening the gates. Tywin Lannister’s motives are questionable, answering the summons now and trying to ingrate himself into your good books. It is too convenient Your Grace, I do believe that there is some other motive there that he has. He has always wanted his daughter to become Queen, and now Robert provides that opportunity.”

Aerys roars something then. “Of course he has, he always wanted to be me, he wanted this crown and he wanted my wife. But he shall have neither. I shall have his head and his daughter just as I had his wife.”

Jaime looks at Pycelle then and sees the man is working on something. And when the man speaks Jaime feels as if he could groan. “Allow him to enter the city Your Grace. You can make him think he is doing you a favour, but in reality you are using him for your own advantage. You hold his heir and you hold the cards, make him see that and you shall have him in your pocket.”

The king seems to consider this for a long moment and then says. “Very well then, send word to Stokeworth I want the gates opened. Tywin will owe me now until the end of time.”

Both men bow and leave and then it is just Jaime, Rossart and the king left in the throne room. The silence stretches on for a very long time, a very long time, in which nothing can be heard except the sound of the king cursing as he cuts himself on the throne. Jaime stands stock still thinking of Cersei and Tyrion trying his hardest not to look at the body dangling above him. The silence is broken by the king when he speaks, his voice high and reedy. “So tell me Lannister boy, what you make of the news that your father is coming here. Do you think he can survive?”

Jaime is silent a long time before saying. “I believe so Your Grace. He is a cautious man, I do not think he would do anything that would jeopardize the alliance here.”

The king grumbles then. “Of course, Tywin always was the cautious one. Except when it came to fulfilling his lusts. Did you know he was a bit of a man whore when we were younger? He spread his seed throughout many women in the city. Why you might even have a few bastard brothers and sisters wandering around here.”

Jaime refuses to believe this putting it down to the king’s madness but something about this all stings inside and so he keeps his mouth shut. As such it seems the king’s words have come back to bite him, for Ser Janos Slynt a puffed up cunt comes forward and says rather out of breath. “Your Grace, word from outside the keep. Tywin Lannister and his men have begun sacking the city.”

Jaime groans internally. Why would his father do this? The king seems very angry and bellows. “So the man has decided to repay my trust with war now has he? Gods I should never have allowed the man to survive before Harrenhal. I should never have allowed him to live. By the gods, this man is going to be the death of me.”

Rossart speaks then whispering always whispering. “This is unacceptable Your Grace. Tywin Lannister must be shown the ways he has gone wrong and be brought to justice. Give the order and I shall light the blaze and bring the dragons to life.”

The king considers this a moment and Jaime seizes his opportunity then turning round to look at the king he says. “Your Grace, setting fire to the city would achieve nothing. Give me terms and I shall ride out to meet my father myself. And I shall make him bend the knee.”

Aerys looks at him, for a long moment his eyes wide and then his voice comes out high and reedy. “No, you will betray me just as he has, just as your mother did. No, I will not send you out. Unless you promise to bring me your father’s head. As for you Rossart, go, go and set the flames a light and tell the other pyromancers of their duty.” The man bows and leaves, and then when the king looks at him for a long time, he too bows and leaves.

Jaime instead, follows Rossart. “Lord Rossart a moment if you please.” He calls out.

The hand stops and turns round his eyes wide and bloated. “Yes, Ser Jaime, what can I do for you? Has the king asked for me?”

Jaime, begins unsheathing his sword then and saying. “Well yes, there is one thing the king has asked of me. And you know what he’s like, always changing his mind on the most important of things. He has decided that, it is not in his best interest to set the city on fire. Instead he has asked me to dispose of you.” Whatever protests the man might have had die on his lips when Jaime shoves his sword into the man’s chest.

The man falls to the ground, and Jaime stands there for a long time merely staring at his sword, covered in blood. Not the first man he has killed, but the first person of import. He shakes his head, and brings himself together, says a quick prayer, and then walks back into the throne room. The king sat on the Iron Throne stands up when Jaime walks in and he asks. “Have you done the deed already? That was quick, I knew you were good but not that good. So what has become of your father’s army?”

Jaime, looks at his sword and says. “It is not the blood of my father that is on my sword. It is the blood of Rossart. And when this is done and dusted I shall prevent the other fools that you have doing anything stupid. Your time is up Aerys.”

“You are a knight of my Kingsguard boy! Might I remind you, you are sworn to do as I say. Stand down now, and I will not burn you alive.” The king roars.

Jaime ignores the king and begins walking up the steps of the Iron Throne, as he does so he keeps his eyes on the king. “I am a knight of the Kingsguard that is true. But I am also a knight, sworn to protect the innocent. And you are not an innocent man Your Grace, you are the threat to the people and the innocents of king’s landing. And I cannot allow you to remain alive.” The king is still protesting when Jaime brings his sword forward and thrusts it into his throat, he squeals like a pig as he dies, his body falls to the floor and Jaime gives it a kick and sends it down the stairs. He then stands and looks at the throne for a long time, a very long time, and then sighing he turns and sits down on the throne.

He knows not how long he sits on the Iron Throne, but eventually the doors to the throne room open up once more he sees two men he has not seen for a long time enter the throne room. Ser Elys Westerling and Lord Ronald Crakehall both men loyal to his father are in the throne room now staring at him and the body at the foot of the throne. Ser Elys speaks first. “Ser Jaime, what, what would you have us do?”

Jaime looks at them both, and says. “What do you mean?”

Lord Ronald looks at him then and says. “Well, Aerys is dead, there are the children left.”

Jaime looks at them for a moment, and thinks of the promise he had made to Rhaegar, but then he remembers that they are of the blood of Aerys and the madness could come to them as well. And then he says. “Choose whoever you want, I care not.”

Both men nod and then they are gone as well, leaving Jaime to the storm of thoughts waging around in his head. He knows that with his action, will make many question his vows, and as such he is torn between all of this and begins mulling it all over, wondering if perhaps the new king would give him a chance for redemption, or if his father will want a Kingslayer back, especially one who might have learnt some of his deepest darkest secrets. His thoughts are interrupted when the doors to the throne room open up once more, and he sees Stark men riding in. Well this should be interesting.


	10. The Old Man In The North

**3 rd Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

King’s Landing was a mess, Tywin Lannister and his westermen had come to the city before they had, and had somehow managed to convince Aerys Targaryen to allow them into the city. As a result, King’s Landing had been sacked people’s homes looted, women and children being slain without a thought, and some even being raped. Yes this was the sort of work Tywin Lannister was capable of, and as such Rickard considered it to be somewhat of a tragedy, but something of a necessity as it often was in war. They had ridden through the city avoiding what dangers they could, though some of it had come to blows, but they had managed to make it through to the Red Keep somewhat unimpeded. And now this was where things had become interesting, entering the throne room they had expected to find Aerys Targaryen alive and well, Rickard had wanted him to be alive and well, so he could run the bastard through with his own sword. But instead they had arrived to find a knight of the Kingsguard, sat on the throne and Aerys Targaryen lying dead at the foot of the throne.

“Ser Jaime Lannister I presume?” Rickard says still mounted on his horse.

The man nods and says. “Yes, and I presume that by the wolf on your banners and your own wolf’s head helm, you are Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell?”

Rickard nods and then points his sword at Aerys and asks. “Might I ask what happened to the king here? The man seems to have died a most tragic death and whilst I do not mourn the man’s passing, I would like to know who it was who did the deed.”

The knight, looks at him for a long moment and then says. “I did. I was the one who killed the king.”

Silence and then Rickard hears Ned go. “Kingslayer.” Rickard looks at his son as if to silence him. And his son says. “So you broke your oath to protect the king and instead killed him? Why? To further your own cause, or because you could not stand to allow your father die?”

Rickard wants to bark at his son to be quiet but Jaime Lannister responds. “I did what needed to be done. Whilst it is true that I did break my oath to protect the king, I also had my knightly vows to consider. After all King Aerys was a mad man I am sure we can all agree on that, and he was plotting to have the whole of King’s Landing destroyed costing you  and your men as well as my father and his own men’s lives. That was something I could not abide by, I have stood by whilst Aerys had Lord Brandon burnt alive, I stood by whilst the king committed so many crimes that they would make any man want to gore his own eyes out. I could not stand by and allow it to continue. If you wish to chastise me for doing that then go ahead, but do not question why I did it.”

His son protests once more. “And how do we know that you are not merely fulfilling a role that your father has given you? How do we know that any of this is true?”

Jaime Lannister is silent for a long time and Rickard wonders what is coming next. And then the man speaks and his voice is soft, so soft in fact that they have to strain to hear him. “You cannot believe me if you want. But if you truly want to see for yourself, go to the dragonpit and the service vaults and you will find large stashes of wildfire underneath their floors. There are pyromancers around the city waiting for an order that will never come to light the fires. Find them and they will speak of the truth of it all.”

Rickard, considers the boy for a moment and then looks to Martyn Cassel and says. “Martyn, go with ten of your best men and find these men question them and search the places named by Jaime Lannister here. And once you have found the stashes tell the pyromancers to remove them. Now Ser Jaime what can you tell me about what your father plans on doing?”

Jaime is silent a moment and then responds. “I do not know my lord. All I know, that he has wanted to get back at King Aerys for a long time and now seems to be his perfect opportunity.”

Rickard nods taking this in and then asks. “And where are the rest of the royal family and who is protecting them?”

The knight is silent a long time as if considering something and then says. “Princess Elia and her children are in the nursery, with four gold cloaks protecting them. As for Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys, they should be at Dragonstone by this point under heavy guard. Why ever do you ask?”

Rickard looks at the knight for a long moment and then says. “Well considering that Rhaegar Targaryen is dead, there are only three people standing in the way of him completely achieving his goal. And they are the ones at risk, Tywin would not send anyone else but his most trusted men to get rid of those he perceived a threat to getting in with the new establishment. Now who would he send?”

The knight seems to have a dawning realisation judging by the look on his face, and it is with some horror in his voice that he says. “Clegane and Lorch. By the gods he would send the beasts at his command to do such a job. I should never have told Westerling and Crakehall what I did.” The man stands up then and looks at him for a moment before running down the steps and past the body of the king and out the doors of the throne room.

The next few hours pass by in a bit of blur then, making sure that the city is secure, ending the hostilities that might arise. Martyn and his men do find the Pyromancers and the caches of wildfire, and somehow by the grace of the gods get them out without setting them off. The wildfire is placed in containers and kept under watch, and as such there much and more gets done during the course of this one day. Those loyalists who continue fighting for the Targaryens are killed and executed, those who surrender are given two choices bend the knee or join the night’s watch, most join the watch though some such as one Ser Allister Thorne who put up a great fight before eventually bending the knee remains part of the defenders in King’s Landing.

Eventually news comes through of what has happened to Princess Elia and her children, killed by the hands of Gregor Clegane and Armory Lorch, on the orders of Tywin Lannister of that Rickard has no doubt, the man is ruthless and would do what he could to secure himself in Robert’s good books. Ned, of course the honourable son that he is protests vigorously, even more so when Rickard announces that he is going to meet with the man. Rickard tells his son to keep quiet and that something good could come of this, after all Tywin will want his daughter as queen, and Rickard must act to prevent that. And so it is late at night, the castle and the city is still moving through the sack of the at morning and afternoon, that he meets Tywin Lannister for the first time in many years in would have once been Maegor Targaryen’s room. They are both tired but still there is a sense of urgency in their dealings. “So, you finally decided to show up did you Tywin? Tell me, what made you decide to come out from underneath your rock and into the light. What made you decide to fight for Robert?”

The man never smiles and even if he did so he imagined it would be a terrifying sight. The man is calm when he responds. “With Rhaegar’s death at the God’s Eye, the tide had changed. There was no reason to keep fighting for a dead man’s because, after all we had both forsaken Aerys before this all happened.  Aerys was never going to succeed once Rhaegar fell on the God’s Eye, there was nothing more for me to gain by supporting some boyhood friend who had not been a friend in some fifteen years. No, Robert Baratheon is the future, and I wished to prove that the lions could never again be discounted.”

Rickard nods understanding the man’s line of reasoning and then asks. “And what of Princess Elia and her children? Do not try to deny it Tywin, we both know that the work of Clegane and Lorch was on your orders. Whilst I can see the sense of removing Aegon from the path, there is still one male left on Dragonstone, and Rhaenys and Elia could have been kept alive and used as a way to smooth over things with the loyalists.”

The man grimaces somewhat and says. “Aegon and Rhaenys were a direct threat to Robert’s hold on the throne. As Rhaegar’s children, they would have been greater rallying points than Viserys, as no one would want the son of the mad king on the throne, but the children of the silver prince? Someone definitely would’ve wanted them on the throne. As for Elia, that was unfortunate, and as such I have spoken to the one involved.”

Rickard takes this all in and then says. “It would seem to me that you have created a lot of trouble for yourself my lord. Considering King Robert is set on marrying my own daughter and not yours, therefore one must wonder what you hope to gain by doing what you have done?”

The Lord of Casterly Rock is silent a long time and then says. “Well one does not know what the fates might bring. But then again this king is not that king, and my son has done the realm a service. King Robert is known to be charitable to his allies, and there is something of an issue with my succession that I wish to clear up before I leave here.”

Rickard considers this and then says. “Indeed my lord this is very true. One never knows what fate might conspire to bring, Robert Baratheon was raised by Jon Arryn whose own words are as High as Honour. And as such he might well consider the service your son has done and weigh it against his vows as a man of the Kingsguard. But then, he could find the man has done a service as he very well has done. And as such I will make sure the king looks favourably upon your son when the time comes.”

Both men look at one another for a long time after that, weighing one another up and considering whether or not the other can be trusted. Eventually it is Tywin who breaks the silence. “Very well then my lord. It is late and we both have much to do on the morrow. Let us work together to ensure our common goals and we can meet and discuss this all later on, before the king arrives.” With that they both depart from the room, Rickard back to the rooms he has taken and Tywin to the rooms he has undoubtedly taken.

As expected when Rickard returns to his room he sees his son sat there a dark look on his face. Sighing he asks. “What is it now Eddard? What new problems have you come to present to me?”

Eddard looks slighter older and tired than he did when the war began he has a beard now as well as being a father, his voice sounds tired when he speaks. “What did you speak of to Tywin Lannister father?”

Rickard looks at his son then and considers how much he should tell him, before deciding that he will one day be Lord of Winterfell and as such must know the hard truths. “I talked to him about why he did as he did with regards to Princess Elia and her children and what he plans on doing now that he is here.”

“And what justification did he have for committing the atrocious crimes that he did?” his son asks.

Rickard takes a long sip of water and then says. “He said that it was necessary to remove Aegon and Rhaenys as they were direct threats to Robert’s hold on the throne. Something that I agree with him on, they were children and their murder was brutal and disgusting but it was something that needed to be done to ensure that there was no trouble for Robert in the future.”

His son as he expected voices his protests. “They were children, father. No matter what their names were they were innocent children, who suffered only because of their name and their father and grandfather’s actions. There were other courses of action that could have been taken, keeping them alive is more sensible and honourable than killing them now.”

Rickard sighs once more and then says. “You should know by now that there is no place for honour in war. Aegon and Rhaenys would most definitely have caused trouble for Robert and his heirs in the future, if not right now as children then most definitely when they grew older and were able to form thoughts of their own and would be less willing to go with what their elders tell them to do.”

“And what of Princess Elia then?” his son asks. “Did she deserve to die as well?”

Rickard takes another sip of water once more and then says. “No she did not deserve to die and that was an accident that she did. Tywin and his men will answer for that crime when the king arrives, but until then there are other things that we must need to discuss.”

His son looks as if he is about to protest and then sighing asks. “Is this about the issue of Lyanna?”

Rickard nods. “Aye, we know from questioning Lord Arel Dayne that Lyanna is in Dorne, in some blasted tower, we must begin making plans for how to deal with the situation that we might find. After all having three Kingsguard there, it is not going to be easy to get to Lyanna. News will reach them of the sack of King’s Landing and this will make them much more determined to prevent us from getting to Lyanna.”

His son considers and then asks. “What would you consider doing?”

“We must make a plan of how we are going to go about getting Lyanna back. There are two choices we have, we can either fight them or we can try for the peaceful negotiation. Peaceful negotiation is the better option as far as I am concerned, it means that less bloodshed will be needed. It also means that we can finally learn the truth of what happened between Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar.” Rickard responds.

“And would you tell Robert about this?” Eddard asks.

Rickard considers this and then says. “The less the king knows the better.”


	11. Sword Of The Morning

**Fourth Month of 283 A.C. Tower of Joy**

**Ser Arthur Dayne**

Life at the tower was growing dim, there was little to no news coming through, and there was little interaction with the outside world. On Rhaegar’s order they had done little but get supplies from nearby holdfasts and lands though the people of the nearby lands had come to learn of Lyanna’s presence and as such any insult to their Princess was an insult to them, so reactions to asking them for food and water did not go over well. It was frustrating, and to some extent he could understand where they were coming from, hells were he not sworn to the Kingsguard, there was so much he wish he could have done to make a difference. He should have tried harder to convince Rhaegar not to take the girl, he should have fought harder with the man and argued consistently, but his vows and his damned honour had gotten in the way and now they were going to pay the price for it. News had come, a rider from Kingsgrave had come to inform them of the horrifying news of the God’s Eye and the Sack of King’s Landing, and now they were going to have to discuss it.

“We should have remained with the Prince or with the king, we are the best knights of the realm, and as such could have made a difference. But no Rhaegar just had to ask us to remain here to play nursemaid to his little she wolf, and now the man is dead along with his children.” Oswell said his tone indicating his thoughts on the matter.

Gerold, was silent for a time at this and then his voice came to light. “This is true, but then again we chose Rhaegar as our king and we were sworn to obey him. We could not have disobeyed his orders without calling into question our vows and our own senses of duty. Yes remaining here has proven to be frustrating, but there is some doubt that we could have made too much of a difference at the God’s Eye. Jonothor and Lewyn were there and yet they both died at the battle. What more could we have done that they could not have?”

Oswell laughs then. “We could have made sure the men did not flee when they were cut down. I am sure they men fled because the knights of the Kingsguard were dead, Rhaegar would have tried to hold the battle together and we all know he would have been commanding the vanguard, unaware of the chaos going on around him. There is much and more that we could have done, but being here that is all we can do. Speculate and speculate until nothing more comes of it. I say we should have been there.”

The Lord Commander is silent for a long time and then says. “True, and whilst I understand your frustrations, we are now by right of the last orders of Prince Rhaegar to protect his wife and unborn child. We must remain true to our vows and ensure that Princess Lyanna and her child are protected from whatever men the usurper sends to find her. He has shown what he will do to those who are related to Prince Rhaegar, and that is something that I cannot and will not allow to happen here.”

Oswell speaks up once more. “By rights of succession, Prince Viserys is now the king. He is the one who should be getting our protection. Princess Lyanna should not be a concern of ours just now, we must decide on what to do to ensure Viserys has the right amount of support and allies to stake a claim on the throne. Princess Lyanna, will most likely give birth to a girl based on what her handmaiden is saying or has said.”

Arthur speaks then. “We do not know whether or not she will give birth to a girl. She could give birth to a boy, and then we would need to ensure that child is well protected as it would be the king. The rightful king. Regardless though our orders were to ensure Princess Lyanna was and is protected from harm and we must continue to hold to that vow. The Starks will no doubt be coming to look for her, and when they come we must be ready to put forward a fight. I will not do as Ser Barristan did and capitulate to the usurper.”

At this Gerold nods. “Barristan whilst a good man, was someone who had begun to have doubts about the regime. He is a good knight and a fine warrior but his knightly vows were getting in the way of his loyalty. Too often did he question what was not supposed to be questioned. And now he has sworn himself to the usurper it will be hard to convince him to come back to our side. There is too much at stake now to allow someone such as Barristan to come back into the Kingsguard. And if the man is willing to work with Jaime Lannister then one must question whether he would be a valued asset anyway.”

And so they had finally arrived at the big question in the room, the matter of Jaime Lannister and his actions. Arthur was not sure what he felt and said as much. “I do not think that Jaime did wrong in removing Aerys from the throne Gerold. Yes Aerys was the king, but the man was mad, we all know that. He had done things that deserved being removed from the throne, and were it any other man who had killed him, we would all be saying that the man had done the realm a service. I do not see why we should castigate Jaime just because he did it as a knight of the Kingsguard.”

The Lord Commander looks at him for a long moment before saying. “It is because he was a knight of the Kingsguard that we must consider this issue. There were plenty of things the boy could have done other than kill the king. He could have knocked him out or ensured that the man was incapacitated. But killing the king? That is something that needs looking at, yes he did the realm a service, but that service has come at a cost. Now people will look at the Kingsguard and wonder what sort of men we are. What sort of knights we are.”

Arthur speaks then. “And indeed they should. Under Aerys reign a lot happened that perhaps should not have happened. We have become the things we are supposed to protect the realm from. We became goons and thugs, and no matter how we might try to justify it to ourselves, the Kingsguard has fallen from the heights that it had under King Aegon the Fortunate, and his predecessors. We are becoming a shadow of ourselves. Jaime’s action can be seen as a stain on the Kingsguard or as a chance to begin the process to ensuring that House Targaryen is never again questioned.”

The Lord Commander looks at him for a long time and his voice is deep and commanding when he says. “The Kingsguard is an institution that is supposed to stand ahead and aside from such political manoeuvrings. We are supposed to be the guards of the royal family, there to watch but never comment unless asked. If we begin playing in the game of thrones that the nobles do, we are no better than them. The Kingsguard was formed to be better than that, to be loyal to the King and only the king. Begin looking at something other than that and other complications come into the matter. I can see where you are coming from Arthur, but one could make the case had we stuck true and not sided with Prince Rhaegar over King Aerys, this mess would not have happened. It was our backing that gave the prince the confidence to go forward with his plans.”

“And those plans needed to go forward Gerold. Come now, you, yourself have said that Aerys was not the man he was in his youth and was falling into an abyss that none of us or anyone would have been able to pull him out of. We had to back Rhaegar, and we did so willingly, all of us here did and Lewyn did as well. We were doing what we did for the good of the realm, Aerys was a man who would have brought the realm into the abyss with him and destroying the lives of many innocent people. As knights of the realm it was our duty and remains our duty to ensure that the innocents are protected and safe.” Arthur says.

Oswell speaks then and says. “Arthur is right Gerold. The Kingsguard is not what it was when you joined, we have all committed our fair share of crimes after all. The Kingsguard is not the famed institution that it was when you joined it Gerold. Men such as Duncan the tall, Morgan Darklyn and Tom Costayne are few and far between now. We are not the storied legends they were, and the sooner we accept that the better.”

Arthur nods and looks at Gerold who seems to be considering all of this, and when he speaks his voice is slow and ponderous. “What you say is true, but there are many issues that need to be addressed before the changes that you want can come into place. The main question that is there, is the question of Obedience. We are sworn to obey the king’s orders without question, and that is something that will need to be addressed. When King Aegon and his son Jaehaerys were alive, there was no trouble in obeying their orders, they were good men and good kings, and we gladly carried out their orders. But under Aerys the old way came back, and now we have a struggle between ensuring the knightly vows and the Kingsguard vows. Which one takes precedence, the knightly ones or the Kingsguard vows? There’s too much that needs to be considered before we lose sight of our true purpose. But that is a matter for another day. Now Arthur you are the one the princess is close to, it is your duty to inform her of her husband’s demise.”

Arthur nods and it is with a heavy heart that he stands and makes the climb up to where the princess spends most of her time. She is humming a soft song when he knocks and enters her room, “Ser Arthur what news is there? Has there been word from Rhaegar?”

He sighs and says. “Princess, there is no easy way to say this, so I shall just say it. There was a rider from Kingsgrave this morning, carrying news from the battlefield. Prince Rhaegar is dead, slain by Robert Baratheon at the God’s Eye. And from there the rebels took King’s Landing, with Tywin Lannister sacking the city and killing Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys. Robert Baratheon is the king now.”

The princess looks at him with something akin to shock on her face, as she digests the news and begins processing it and then she screams. “No! That cannot be true, it cannot be true. Rhaegar was not supposed to die, he said he would come back. He promised he would come back.!” The princess keeps screaming this over and over again, forcing her handmaiden to come back into the room, as well as Gerold and Oswell to come up into the room as well. The princess is screaming and thrashing about throwing things and shouting.

Arthur feels his heart break a little seeing her like this, she who was so strong and defiant broken by something such as this. He knows not how long it goes on for but when the princess stops it is not to calm down but because another scream comes from her mouth, and Arthur looks down with some horror to see water trickling down from her dress onto the floor


	12. Wondering Wolf

**4 th Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Eddard Stark**

King’s Landing, was a big city an impressive one at that, and yet Ned disliked it, the air was too humid, the people were too vacuous there was no concern for anyone but themselves. And this had been shown quite thoroughly when Robert had entered the city, there had been a fanfare when his friend had entered the city, there were people cheering and yelling out his name, and Robert dressed in his armour with his helm on looked magnificent like a true warrior king. Yet the boy whom Ned had grown up with would not have been so consumed by the praise that he would have forgotten the code of honour they were raised with which stated that something needed to be put aside for the people of King’s Landing who had just experienced a brutal sack. His friend had revelled in the cheers and the joy of the people and had seemed to feed off of them, it was this that he was telling himself was the reason for Robert’s complete change of attitude when the bodies were presented. Before the rebellion, Ned was certain his friend would have been just as horrified by the sight of the bodies as Ned had been. His friend had only briefly looked at the bodies before dismissing them, and accepting Tywin Lannister’s pledge of fealty, it was something so out of character for Robert that Ned had been completely surprised and outraged by it. Such a casual dismissal of human life, something that Ned was not sure he wanted to see continue in Robert, but he did not know what to do.

As it were, the calling of a meeting between Robert, Jon and his father and himself to discuss what was going to happen next regarding certain issues was where he wanted to bring the matter up. The king spoke first. “My lords and Ned, I thank you for your help in winning me this throne. The war is not yet done though, the Tyrells still lay siege to my home. My brothers are struggling to keep going and as such that is the first matter that I wish to discuss. I would take your suggestions as to what to do.”

Ned’s father spoke first. “It would seem that Mace Tyrell is merely holding out, and not committing either way. We know that there were very few men were sent north with Rhaegar to fight at the God’s Eye. A few thousand nothing more than that, as such it seems he is merely keeping his strength at Storm’s End waiting for someone to commit. Fighting him is not going to bring much reward to your cause Your Grace. It would merely make things worse and tire out an already tired army. Sending someone to negotiate terms with the man however would be the best situation. Mace Tyrell, I believe is someone who would be willing to bend the knee now that he knows would be willing to talk reasonably.”

Robert looks at his father then and asks. “And whom would you suggest, and what sort of terms would be considered acceptable to offer to a man who has been laying siege to my home for nearly a year?”

His father is silent for a moment and then says. “I would recommend either myself or Lord Hoster. You and Lord Arryn need to remain in King’s Landing for the nonce to ensure that the city and your reign here is stable. There are lords in Crackclaw point who will continue to cause some problems and a strong presence here will ensure they get no room for more. As for the terms, I suggest that he and his lords are pardoned for laying siege after all they are only doing their job to the crown. Furthermore, as Willas Tyrell is still in our possession and as such the boy is a useful bargaining chip. I believe that bringing the boy with me when I go to Storm’s End would be a good thing, it would show that you are a forgiving king and someone who is willing to let bygones be bygones. Bringing Willas Tyrell and saying to Mace that we shall return his son if he bends the knee would be the best way to ensure that he bends the knee in double quick time.”

Ned looks at Robert then and the man seems to be considering this and then he nods. “Very well then. Lord Rickard you and the northern army shall march for Storm’s End with Willas Tyrell in tow. Relieve the siege and then, this brings us onto the next point I wished to discuss. You know where Lyanna is correct?”

Ned nods and says. “Yes Your Grace, Lord Arel Dayne has told us that Prince Rhaegar kept Lyanna in a place called the Tower of Joy in northern Dorne.”

Robert snorts then and says. “The nerve of the man, kidnapping my betrothed and leaving her in his wife’s homeland. He clearly was a madman and someone who needed to be removed. Such a man becoming king? Gods he would have been worse than Aerys. Now then we know that there are three Kingsguard correct?” Ned nods and his friend continues. “I want them killed all three of them and any other idiots that are left with them. They have stood between me and my Lyanna for too long now. I will not have it continued.”

Ned nods and then Jon Arryn speaks. “Speaking of the Lady Lyanna, there is the issue over whether or not she would be suitable for the king to marry. I do not mean to offend you my lord Rickard, but she has been gone for two years, and it is reasonable to assume that she is not a maiden. Rhaegar Targaryen whatever he might be is not a fool, he would’ve done something to ensure that she could not be taken away from him should something occur. There will be lords who will protest the marriage taking place, after all she is not a maiden presumably, and as such they will not want someone who has been defiled by the enemy as it were and placed in as Queen. I am not saying it is right nor is it the best thing, but it is also something of a practical thing. Tywin Lannister, would want some sort of reward for aiding in removing the threat of Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys, his daughter Cersei is a maiden and is beautiful and smart by all accounts and would also ensure Tywin never tried to side with Viserys Targaryen.”

Ned looks at his foster father shocked, and then turns to his father to see his face schooled into a neutral expression. “I understand where you are coming from Lord Arryn, and whilst I can see the benefits of having Tywin Lannister tied to the throne through marriage, he is a man who would want more than that. He would want his heir back as well and that is something that must needs be discussed further. I believe that Lyanna would make a good Queen, she is strong minded yes, but she knows how to please people. Furthermore it would be the perfect ending to this rebellion. The king has won the war and now he is married to the woman he loves and fought the war for.”

Robert speaks then and says. “I agree with Lord Rickard, Lyanna is my betrothed and as such I have fought this whole war for her, and I will not accept anyone else as my wife. As for Jaime Lannister, let Tywin have his bloody heir back I do not care one bit about that golden haired shit. I want Lyanna as my queen.”

Ned breathes a sigh of relief then, but another matter comes to his mind and asks. “Your Grace, whilst I am relieved that you are still going to marry Lyanna, I wish to know, as I am sure my father does, if there is a child with Lyanna, what will happen to that child?”

There is a long silence then, Ned wonders if he has said something wrong and then Robert chokes out. “A child? You truly believe that there would be a child? That my Lyanna would give birth to a monster, that madman’s monster? That she would allow it to live and not kill it herself? I cannot believe that nor will I allow it. Should there be a child with Lyanna when you find her, I want that child killed, and I want proof that it has been killed. I will not suffer seeing the child around here, nor will I want to see my Lyanna suffer seeing the bastard dragonspawn.”

Ned feels the anger grow inside of him, hearing his friend refer to a child who would be his niece or nephew as dragonspawn. His anger is growing so rapidly that he has to grit his teeth to prevent from screaming. “That child is not dragonspawn, that child would be Lyanna’s child. That child would be my niece or nephew, and is someone who would be innocent of their father’s sins and actions. I would not allow you to harm them, nor will I allow you to dictate what happens to the child that is Lyanna’s decision.”

His friend seethes then. “Remember who you are speaking to Eddard Stark. You are speaking to your king now. And my decision is final. If I say Lyanna’s child dies, the child dies. End of story, I will not suffer having dragonspawn around King’s Landing or even breathing. The child dies and Lyanna shall be my wife. I love Lyanna and wish to marry her, but the child must die.”

Ned feels his own anger begin to reach boiling point. “The child is innocent of any crime Your Grace.” He places emphasis on the title. “The child did not commit the sins Rhaegar did, or Aerys did, the child is but a babe, and as such must be treated as such. Your hatred for Rhaegar is clouding your judgement. Just as it did when you allowed for Tywin Lannister to go unpunished for the killings of Elia and her children.”

Robert stands then and so does Ned. “Mind your tone Lord Eddard. I am the king and you are coming very close to pushing me over the line, and once it is crossed then you shall face my wrath. The child dies, Lyanna will become my wife when the child dies. I will not allow it to survive and breathe. Tywin Lannister did the realm a service by removing those two brats from the way to the throne, and ended any potential threat they might have caused.”

“They were babes at their mother’s breast, unaware of the crimes their father and grandfather committed. They are not spawn they are but innocent children. You have allowed a mad man to commit murder, there were plenty of other things that could’ve been done with the children. The citadel, the faith the wall, anything could’ve been done and yet you are happy to see them dead and plot the death of Viserys Targaryen.” Ned says his anger nearly erupting.

“Enough Ned! They were his children, they would be the cause of more trouble because there are people who would want them to cause trouble. You are too blinded by naivety to think that they would not cause trouble. They had to go and Viserys will die just as well, as will this bastard dragonspawn that Rhaegar has gotten on your sister.” Robert bellows.

Ned feels cold all over now, this is not the man he became friends with, this is not the man he fought beside, and he knows not who this man is. “I do not believe you Robert. I cannot understand why you are so blinded by hate that you would see innocents killed to sate your anger. You are no better than Tywin Lannister, you might be my king, but you are not the man I became friends with, you are not the man I chose as a brother.” With that he turns and leaves, his anger guiding him to the woods of the Red Keep, he sits down next to the tree which is supposed to be a heart tree and prays, and thinks. Robert is not the man he once was, that Ned sees now, but it is a realisation that stings. The crown has corrupted his friend, beyond what he thinks is acceptable he is shaken to his core, Robert is…. Robert is lost gods it is hard to know what is right and what is wrong anymore.

He sits there for a long time thinking, thinking over what he is going to do, and what he wants to do. He knows not, but he hopes with time he will come to know, he is not so sure but he does wish to know what to do. “Ned,” his father’s voice startles him out of his reverie he turns round somewhat and sees his father standing a few feet away, his cloak on. “You said some very good things in that meeting. Robert Baratheon is growing more and more astray with each passing day, his coronation has not yet happened but when it does we shall be far away from here.”

Ned nods and then asks. “What happened after I left? I did not mean to storm out as I did father I apologise.”

His father is silent for a moment and then says. “It makes no matter, the king is wroth and has demanded that we leave for Storm’s End on the morrow. He is making sure that you cannot return to King’s Landing for some time. At least until Lyanna and he are wed.”

Ned nods and then asks. “Are you still going to allow Lyanna to marry Robert? I know he is the king and their marriage would make Lyanna queen, but would you do that at the expense of your grandson? Especially when you have told me your own doubts about the kidnapping?”

His father looks at him a long time then and when he responds his voice is soft. “I do not know yet Ned. All I can say now is that plans can change.”


	13. Summoning The Wolf

**6 th Month of 283 A.C. Storm’s End**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

Since, King Robert had become more and more corrupted by the power of the crown on his head. It seemed not having anyone to tell him no was making the king indulge in all the things that he had denied himself during the war, mainly wine and women. And whilst Rickard understood the needs of men, it somewhat grated on him that the king could have doubts about his own betrothed and yet would indulge in such carnal pleasures in public.  Things between the king and Rickard’s own son had been frosty at best, and there was not a word spoken between them when they departed, Rickard wondered at that, was their bond broken? And if so where could this go, there were many things he would need to ponder. Winter and travelling with an army had slowed down their progress and ensured that they were only now arriving at Storm’s End despite having left King’s Landing some two moons ago.

As it were, he was amazed at the display of grandeur that the Tyrells and their bannermen had going on in a siege camp. Grand tents were all around the place, and it seemed there were constant feasts being held from what he could tell. Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden was a tall man strong of shoulder and broad of chest, a strong man and seemingly a strong lord. “King Robert, is very willing to accept you back into the king’s peace and into the realm at large. So long as you bend the knee, refute any claims of allegiance to the Targaryens and of course end this siege. It has gone on for long enough and now is not the time to begin new grudges or extend old ones.” Rickard says.

Mace Tyrell nods his head and says. “Indeed my lord, and having spoken to many of my lords about it I am willing to bend the knee. So long as his grace can promise that there will be no harsh retribution for what I and my lords did during this war. After all we merely did as we were asked by King Aerys, and whilst the man was mad and indeed very dangerous, he was the king.”

“Of course my lord, that is a valid concern to have. As such the King has decided to pardon you without enacting any harsh recriminations. Indeed, the king has decided to be most merciful and has allowed me to bring back your son and heir Willas.” Rickard responds.

Tyrell’s face lights up at that and when the boy runs into his arms, Rickard smiles somewhat at seeing the reunion, though there is a pang in his heart when he thinks of Brandon and the son he will never see again. Nonetheless when the two are done with their embraces, the boy returns to his father’s side and Tyrell speaks once more. “My lord, I would you like to thank you and the king for bringing me, my boy back. As I am sure you can understand, I have been worried about him during the course of this war. Now that he is home I will be sure to spoil him rotten. I will willingly bend the knee now that my son is back.”  With that, the man gets down on one knee alongside his fellow lords and knights and they follow his lead when he says. “I, Mace of the House Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden Warden of the South do formally acknowledge Robert Baratheon as King of Westeros and do hereby foreswear any allegiance towards House Targaryen and will hereby be loyal to House Baratheon under Robert Baratheon and his heirs.”

Once that is done Rickard asks to speak with the man in private and so they go to the man’s tent, and once they are seated Rickard speaks. “So my lord, I know that soon enough you and your men shall be going back to the Reach. But before that happens I wish to know what you can tell me of the man inside that castle. What is Stannis Baratheon like?”

There is a sense of tension in the man’s shoulders but he seems to truly speak from the heart when he says. “He is a stubborn man that one. We have heard of the king’s ferociousness and his desire to go through hell and back to get what he thinks is his. Well his brother is just as stubborn but he did not crack or bend once. There were a few battles at the beginning of the siege and they lost men, we lost men, but once the man and his people were inside those gates it was almost as if something went up and no matter what we did they would not crack. We would take their food and burn their lands but he would remain in Storm’s End along with his lords and people and held out. Defiance is in that one’s nature, either that or he is too prideful to admit defeat. They I believe were running out of food, and had I not ordered Lord Redwyne to allow that smuggler through then they would never have gotten those onions and they would be dead by now.”

“Smuggler?” Rickard asks. “What smuggler?”

“Davos Seaworth, a man from King’s Landing whom Lord Redwyne found patrolling the waters here with his own ship and crew. We spoke with one another and I allowed him a small window to get some food through. After all I did not want the Baratheon brothers dying, especially after news of the God’s Eye. I am many things my lord but I am not a complete idiot.” Tyrell says.

Rickard smiles somewhat and then says. “So you are saying that the Baratheons and their people owe their survival to you?” the man nods and Rickard fights the urge to laugh.

Mace smiles as well and then asks. “So tell me my lord, we all know of the rumours of Robert Baratheon but what is he like in the flesh?”

Rickard hesitates for a moment, his desire to speak the truth and his own need to make sure the king’s reputation is not ruined. “The king is a good man, a fierce warrior and a good commander. He is strong and he is compassionate, something that Aerys most definitely was not. He will make a good king I believe, someone capable of healing the wounds this war has created.”

“It is interesting that you should say that my lord. For the talk of the camp is that Tywin Lannister is trying to move in on the king, and ingrate himself in with him.” Tyrell says.

Rickard is somewhat taken aback by this and asks. “What do you mean my lord? It is true Tywin Lannister has been speaking with the King, but that is normal after all the man has been wanting his heir back since the day Aerys announced Ser Jaime was to join the Kingsguard.”

Tyrell’s eyes gleam mischievously and his voice is deceptively soft when he says. “The word going round is that Tywin is trying to see his daughter wed to Robert. That the king is in love with your daughter does not seem to matter to him. After all, with the Lady Lyanna having been abducted by Prince Rhaegar some two years ago now, many are wondering if the king will set aside his love for your daughter and choose Cersei Lannister in order to achieve political stability.”

Rickard feels anger begin to boil but then says. “Whilst the king would be within his rights to marry Cersei Lannister, he has constantly reassured me that he will stick to the betrothal and marry Lyanna. I do not think he is a man to go against his word.”

“Whilst this is true, it is one thing to claim to love someone when they are not there, and another to actually say it when they are there. And my lord, no matter what you might wish to say to yourself, the lady Lyanna has been away from everyone but Prince Rhaegar for a year before the prince died on the God’s Eye. One would wonder how the king would feel face to face with his betrothed knowing she has been with another man, and then when he looks at Cersei Lannister and sees a beautiful maiden.” Tyrell responds.

Rickard grits his teeth and says. “What are you suggesting Tyrell?”

Tyrell holds his hands up in a pacifying gesture and says. “I am merely saying what surely someone as smart as you has realised. Robert Baratheon could very well fall prey to Tywin Lannister, and leave you out to dry. Thus making all the hard work and effort you put in during the war and before it, amount to nothing. There are two dragons left in the world right now and one of them is pregnant. If I were you I would begin looking at them and thinking.”

Rickard nods he has already been considering this but he has other ideas and other dragons in mind. Sensing that the conversation is most definitely entering dangerous territory he stands up and says. “Lord Tyrell, it has been a pleasure speaking with you. Right now I and my men need to rest so we shall. I expect to see you and your men gone from here within the week.” With that he shakes the man’s hand and then leaves, returning to his own tent and falling into a fitful sleep, dreaming of snakes, dragons, wolves and lions. Over the next couple of days he and his men observe as the reachmen begin removing their belongings and themselves from the grounds around Storm’s End. First to go is the Redwyne Fleet sailing from Shipbreaker’s Bay and making their long way back to the Arbor. By the end of the week the Tyrells and their bannermen have gone and left Storm’s End and soon enough the Stormlands. When the last of them have gone, Rickard rides towards the gates of Storm’s End with his son, Martyn Cassel, Willam Dustin and Mark Ryswell and asks to be let in, the gates open slowly and when they ride in Rickard is horrified by what he sees. The people, those who are left are skeletal, he can literally see their bones protruding, the signs that they were close to death are all there. When he meets with a tall man with black hair and skeletal appearance makes him think that death has a name and it is Stannis Baratheon.

Rickard dismounts, and shakes hand with the man and then asks. “Lord Stannis, I presume? How goes it?”

Rickard has heard much about the younger Baratheon brother, and that he was supposedly much like his grandfather Ormund Baratheon, that he held out for a year in a difficult siege suggests as much. His tone is curt and to the point when he speaks. “Well Lord Stark. I thank you for coming to end the siege. In all truth it ended the minute Rhaegar Targaryen died, but Mace Tyrell seemed to slow to realise that. Now, before I forget, we do not have much to eat or the drink but I would be failing as a lord without offering you something.”

Rickard looks at the man and then at the people around him and says. “Thank you, but I must decline. I will not tarry for long. I do bring instructions from your brother King Robert. He has formally named you as Lord of Storm’s End and confirms you as such, and has asked that you begin looking for a bride. Furthermore he has asked that when you are able to begin building a fleet to set sail for Dragonstone to claim the two remaining Targaryens. This will be your first mission as master of ships.”

The man looks taken aback and it shows when he asks. “And where am I to get the supplies from as well as the money?”

“The crown shall pay for the building of the ships and the materials, as to where you get them from, that is for you to decide. Though the king wishes it to be done with some haste. Now, is Davos Seaworth here by any chance?” Rickard responds.

Stannis nods and says. “Davos come here.” The smuggler is a slight man with brown hair and a beard that is already beginning to grow grey. “Ser Davos, this is Lord Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Lord Rickard, this is Ser Davos Seaworth. I knighted him for his service in getting us food when no one else did.”

Rickard nods and then asks. “Might I have a private word with the man my lord?” Stannis nods and then walks away and orders for everyone else to do the same. Leaving Rickard alone with the smuggler. “So tell me Ser Davos, what are your plans now? You are knighted has Lord Stannis given you a role to play?”

“No my lord he has not. But I will do what he asks.” The man responds bluntly.

Rickard nods. “Perhaps you might be of service to him, aid him in building the ships for Dragonstone. And when that is done, perhaps you might have something waiting for you in the north.”

He expects the man to protest but he merely says. “Wherever there is work I shall be happy to help.”

It is plans of the north’s future that fill Rickard’s mind that night in bed, and the next morning when he and his men march out of Storm’s End for Dorne, and for Lyanna.


	14. A Chain

**8 th Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Grand Maester Pycelle**

There had been a lot of change in King’s Landing and the kingdom as a whole over the past few moons. The Targaryen dynasty had been replaced by the Baratheons, with Robert Baratheon having taken the throne, by virtue of his war hammer and the fact that he conveniently had a claim to the throne through his grandmother Princess Rhaelle. The king was a young man, strong and active, there was something of  an impatience to him and his every action, it seemed as if he needed to constantly be doing something otherwise he would grow board. And as such it had been something to see the man attend council meetings, how long such a thing would last though he was not sure. For there was one thing that could be said of Robert Baratheon, he was a man of great appetites but also a man of short patience.

The king was the man speaking right now though and as such Pycelle thought he might as well listen to see what the man had to say. “There has been much going on as of late. With my coronation having taken place but a moon ago. I was quite happy with how it had gone, and I am grateful that the coffers were so generous with their money going. But there are many things that continue be of an issue to me. First of all is the fact that there are Targaryens still alive, Varys what news is there for Dragonstone?”

The eunuch, a man Pycelle has never trusted speaks then his voice soft. “It would appear that Rhaella Targaryen has given birth Your Grace. She has given birth to a baby girl, it seems the stress of all the recent events caused the premature birth and as such Rhaella Targaryen died during the birth. Leaving both the baby girl and her brother Viserys alone and stranded on Dragonstone.”

The king laughs then. “Good so the dragonspawn are limited in who can fight for them now. No one will want a child on my throne. It is time we sealed the clinching blow. But there has been no word from Stannis as to how progress on the ships is going. Sooner or later the Velaryons will try to break their oaths that much I know. Pycelle I want a raven sent out to the Driftmark demanding Velaryon bring himself and his fleet to King’s Landing. I will watch him like a hawk.”

Pycelle nods and then Varys continues. “There is more information from the free cities Your Grace. It would appear that Myr and Lys are going at one another’s throats. It appears they are not fighting over the disputed land this time but over the Stepstones. It seems the former allies are now wanting to gain hold of the islands and begin imposing their own taxes on the islands and trade that goes through there.”

The king nods but Pycelle can tell he is not really listening. “Tell me, what is there to stop the dragonspawn leaving Dragonstone the first chance they get? What is there to prevent Velaryon betraying me and sailing off to aid them?”

At this Pycelle speaks. “Surely Your Grace has heard as well as seen the storms that have been raging along the coast of the city during the past few months? They are worse in the narrow sea, it seems the gods themselves are trying to prevent the Targaryens from breaking away. As such, it would appear as though their ships are going to be little to no use to them until the storms stop, and supposedly the storms will not stop for another moon.”

“And has there been word from my brother yet as to how he is doing with building the new royal fleet?” the king asks interested.

Pycelle looks through his notes and then says. “Lord Stannis writes that he has some 20 ships ready for use, though with some more time he should be able to get more. It would not be enough to completely take on the fleet at Dragonstone, but of course with the storms that are raging it is very likely that they have lost a fair number of ships. It would take just one ship to get onto land and for the men on that ship to storm the island before the castle surrenders. Though Ser Willam Darry is brave and loyal to the Targaryens I do not think he is a fool.”

The king nods and says. “Well considering all the ship wrights and equipment has come from here I expect that soon enough there will be progress. For the time being perhaps it might be best to have the Redwynes move onto them. Lord Redwyne has been dying for a chance to prove himself, this could be his chance, and if he dies then so be it.”

A surprisingly cunning move by the king, the hand though speaks up. “It would be too risky sending Redwyne Your Grace. He has just recently bent the knee and done fealty, along with his goodbrother and the other reacherlords. Sending him now whilst suggesting confidence leaves you open to suspect motives on his part. Better to wait for Lord Stannis to have completed the building of the ships before moving onto attack the island.”

The king reluctantly nods and then turns his attention to Pycelle once more and asks. “And what other word did Lord Stark bring with him? Other than the Reacherlords bending the knee as they should do. There must be more to it than that.”

Pycelle looks at the letter in question and says. “He writes that he has offered something of a job for the onion knight that Lord Stannis knighted. Something to do with looking towards the North’s future. He also writes that he would, with your blessing like to begin laying the ground works down for a port town on the western coast of the north.”

The king’s eyes narrow then. “Why would he wish for there to be a town on the western coast of the north? From what Ned always said it was nothing more than fields and villages. There was no chance for anything other than that. Something is wrong here.”

Simon Staunton speaks then. “It could be good Your Grace. The north has often been lacking in trying to get up there with the west and other places with port access, whilst White Harbour is good, it is not nearly enough for a place like the north. If you want to truly heal the realm allowing this to come to pass, would be one of the smartest things you could do.”

The man is clearly in Stark’s pocket it is quite a shame really, Pycelle remembers when Staunton was full of himself and confidence, years at court has broken him it seems. “Does Lord Stark mention developing a fleet as well?” Lord Arryn asks.

Pycelle looks down at the letter once more and then nods. “Yes he does my lord hand. He writes that having a town on the coast without ships is like having a castle with no defences. Utterly pointless. He does make some good arguments for it, especially with there being reports of a land beyond the Sunset Sea, and with the Iron Islands seemingly developing in trade as well, it could also allow for closer ties between the north and the westerlands. However, one must wonder if such a thing is necessary. The north is already quite strong, this could make them a legitimate concern.”

“What, you believe the Starks would cross me? By the gods man, they were the ones who aided me in winning this crown I now wear. If Lord Rickard wants his town, then I see no reason to go against him. Tell him I approve.”

Pycelle takes a note of this and Arryn speaks then. “You might want to review the proposal much more thoroughly than in just one council meeting Your Grace. This is a serious thing, and whilst it would be good for the north and the realm, it is something that has not been done for a long time, and as such Lord Rickard should be given the chance to justify it himself in person to you.”

The king snorts then and says. “What is the harm in one town? Pycelle tell Lord Stark I am more than happy to sign off on this. He can have his port town and when Lyanna comes back I shall help lay the stones for it.”

Pycelle nods and then when it becomes clear that there is not much more left for them to discuss, the king dismisses them and Pycelle ends up walking back to his rooms, along the way though he sees a man with yellow hair and a forked beard, he looks distinctly foreign and this is the first time Pycelle has seen him here. His face reminds Pycelle of someone he knew once long ago, there is a hardness to it, and that the man looks as though he is carved from stone himself, makes Pycelle think he is some sort of warrior. Shrugging he moves on past the man and into his own rooms, where he finds Lord Tywin waiting for him. “So Pycelle, what was discussed in the meeting?” the man asks.

Pycelle takes a moment to compose himself, Tywin Lannister the man who should’ve been king, who should be hand now, is a tall man he is bald, but he is still proud and a more than capable man. Blinking, Pycelle speaks. “The king wished to know more about the situation in Dragonstone and how soon the royal fleet would be built. With the storms raging it is highly likely that the Targaryens might escape. Whilst the king also wants Monford Velaryon to come to court once more to endanger himself. Stark has also written to say of the Tyrells bending the knee and of his desire for a town on the coast of the western north.”

The Lord of Casterly Rock looks somewhat taken aback by this but his voice is calm when he asks. “And what did the king have to say about that?”

“He agreed to give Stark the rights to begin building the town. He seems more than eager to please the man, after all he is deeply wanting to marry Lyanna Stark. I have done my best to persuade him otherwise, and my men have tried the same, but to no avail. The whores do no better, but they do say he is having doubts.” Pycelle responds.

The Lord of the Rock looks interested at this. “What sort of doubts?”

“It seems the king, voices his doubts about whether or not he could truly be wed to Lady Lyanna knowing whom she has been with before him. There is something of a feeling that Rhaegar Targaryen soiled even this for him. And that he wants to end the betrothal, but he keeps it going out of his love for Eddard Stark. Even if Stark does not follow him anymore.” Pycelle responds.

Tywin seems to consider this for a long moment before speaking. “Good, this is very good. With there being a divide between the two, a chance to make Baratheon see the virtues of wedding Cersei can easily come into it. Good, I want the people working for you to continue to weaken his resolve, sooner or later he will need to see sense. And with the Starks gone it is time for us to begin moving in. I will push for the issue of Jaime being released from the Kingsguard. Now tell me Pycelle, could a woman as young as Lady Lyanna survive giving birth to a child and have the child be healthy?”

Pycelle considers this for a moment and then says. “I believe the child surviving is much more likely. After all we know that the Lady Lyanna was quite active at Harrenhal. But being wherever she might be is something that might have limited her movement and affected her health. It is very likely she and the babe might die.”

Tywin nods and then says. “Very well. Well considering Stark has gone off to Dorne with Arel Dayne, it should not be too hard to find out where the girl is. Perhaps it is time to send someone to deal with the girl and whoever it is who is protecting her. And it is time for our sources at Dragonstone to begin work. The sooner we remove the Targaryens the better our chances of seeing to it that Robert marries Cersei.”

Pycelle nods and says. “I will get to work straight away my lord.” And with that Tywin leaves, leaving Pycelle to his books and his worries and concerns.


	15. Custer

****

**8 th Month of 283 A.C. Tower of Joy**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

The ride to Dorne had not been a very pleasant one, the Stormlands had been left somewhat a ruin by the Tyrells and the war, and winter. People looked scarce and broken as they had ridden past, and something stirred uncontrollably in him, Robert Baratheon had done nothing to aid his people in their time of need, instead if what Simon Staunton said the man was doing nothing but the things he had developed a reputation for. Whoring and drinking, Rickard had no problems with the two things, but so long as the king was discreet about such things he did not mind. It was the fact that the man was supposedly doing it wide in the open as well as voicing his worries and concerns about Lyanna and Rhaegar. That was something he could not stand by and as such he found his support for Robert waning as the moons went on. As such they had learnt this news at Nightsong, where Rickard had left his son and heir Ned in charge of the northern host, whilst choosing companions with which to ride into Dorne. Arel Dayne, the man who had proven so useful in King’s Landing of course had to come. Willam Dustin and Mark Ryswell had come out of a sense of duty and honour to Brandon. Then there were the two men Rickard had most wanted to come, Mors Umber a bellowing giant of a man but someone whom he had the most faith in and Robard Cerwyn another friend of Rickard’s from childhood and someone who was a danger with a sword. Finally there was Martyn Cassel, his ever trusted steward and right hand man.

They arrived at the entrance to the Tower of Joy and it was there that Rickard found the three men who were preventing him from getting to his daughter. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower known as the white bull for his strength an old man now, but still deadly. Ser Oswell Whent, a man Rickard had served beside in the war of the ninepenny kings and one of engagement under the reign of King Aegon V, a deadly warrior and cunning. Finally there was Ser Arthur Dayne the sword of the morning and allegedly the deadliest knight of Aerys Kingsguard. They were all here, meaning Lyanna would be as well. Rickard ordered his men to stop and dismount and when they approached the tower all three of the Kingsguard straightened up. Rickard spoke first his voice level. “I had not thought to find you here Sers. I had looked for you on the God’s Eye when your prince came and fell.”

Ser Gerold was the one who replied. “We were not there, or yet the battle would have been won, and Prince Rhaegar would still be alive.”

“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” Ser Oswell said.

“I looked for you when King’s Landing fell I had thought to find you. When your sworn brother Ser Jaime slew King Aerys with a golden sword in the throne room.” Rickard said.

“We were not there, or King Aerys would yet sit the throne and our false brother would burn in the Seven Hells.” Ser Gerold responds.

“At Storm’s End when I lifted the siege and the Tyrells bent the knee along with all else, I had thought to find you.” Rickard states.

“Our knees do not bend so easily.” Ser Arthur replies. His hand going to his sword.

“Ser Willam Darry has fled to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys and your queen. And I wonder why you are not with them?” Rickard enquires.

“Ser Willam is a good man and true,” Ser Oswell responds.

“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold points out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”

“Now or then,” Ser Arthur points out, donning his helm.

“We swore a vow.” Ser Gerold explains, his shoulders tensing.

Rickard’s men move up beside him as they look to draw their own swords.

Ser Arthur speaks then his tone sad. “And now it begins.”

All were ready and then Lord Arel Dayne speaks his tone sharp. “Stop this madness. Stop it right now.” All eyes turn to the Lord of Starfall. “What are we doing? Why are we preparing to kill one another? There is a woman in there who is a daughter of Winterfell, Lord Rickard is her father. Do you honestly believe that he would harm his own daughter?”

There is a moment’s silence as they all consider this and then it is the man’s own brother who responds. “He has fought to put the Usurper on the throne brother. I do not see how you can abide to be in his presence. This is the man who allowed Princess Elia and her children to be killed and nodded when her killers got off free. What are you doing with him?”

Lord Arel’s voice is hard when he says. “I am doing my best to complete our house’s duty. You know the tales Arthur, and you know what Aerys was, a mad man intent on destroying the seven kingdoms. And Rhaegar, by the gods’ brother, you, and yourself said he was becoming more and more like Aerys with each passing day. What happened to Elia and her children was of course brutal and destructive, and we are here to rectify that.”

Rickard speaks then. “Your brother speaks true Ser Arthur do you truly believe that I could come here, and harm my own daughter. No matter what I have done in the past, I have come here to ensure my daughter is safe and free from the shackles that Rhaegar Targaryen placed on her.”

At this Ser Oswell laughs. “So you think that your daughter was taken against her will? By the gods, she did always say you did not understand her. She came willingly, she wanted to go with Rhaegar. Hells she even begged him to take her. Move the stain of ambition from your eyes Rickard, and see that this is the truth. Robert Baratheon would not want your daughter now.”

Rickard tenses at the man’s words, feeling anger grow inside of him but then he takes a calming breath and says. “I have come to realise that perhaps Prince Rhaegar did not forcibly take away my daughter, but their actions were something that caused a whole lot of deaths as a consequence. But that is immaterial now, I have come to take my daughter home. Whether or not she wants to marry Robert Baratheon is another matter entirely. I will not force her to, now move out of my way.”

Ser Arthur responds then. “You claim the usurper as king. And the wishes of the king, even a false one, come before the wishes of all else. How do we know that you will not hand over Princess Lyanna to satisfy your own ambition?”

The words hit him hard and he says softly. “So she did marry him, the dreams were true.” He runs a hand through his hair and then says. “Ser Arthur, I would never harm my daughter. And I have come to realise that perhaps having her marry Robert Baratheon would be to harm her. I have my own doubts about the man, but I cannot abide by seeing her get hurt. So you will tell me now and you will tell me honestly, why do you remain here?”

Ser Arthur’s voice is hard as iron when he says. “Because we are the last of the Kingsguard that know what that term means. The Kingsguard does not abandon the king, and we shall be damned if we allow you to give our king and his mother over to the usurper.”

At this Rickard’s nerves begin jangling he looks at Martyn out the corner of his eye and when his old friend nods he swallows and then says. “Do you truly believe me to be like Tywin Lannister? I am not a man who would kill innocents, and that is what my daughter and grandson are. Please Sers, I am asking you as a father and a grandfather allow me the chance to see them. And I will not do them harm.”

Ser Oswell whose hands had been on his sword belt before then removes them from the belt and stands aside and says. “So long as you swear on the gods old and new not to do them harm, I will not stand in your way old friend.”

Rickard nods his thanks and then looks at Ser Arthur, the man seems troubled. “How do we know that this is not some ploy? You would be goodfather to the usurper with this marriage, and you would have more to gain by handing Princess Lyanna and the king to the man whom your own son considers a friend.”

Rickard grits his teeth and then says. “I swear by the old gods and the new Ser Arthur I will not hand over my daughter or grandson to Robert Baratheon. I will not see them killed as Elia and her children were killed. They will remain alive and free to do as they wish when this is over and done, and as long as there is breath in my body.”

“Then swear it Lord Rickard. Remove your weapons from your person and get down on bended knee and swear that you shall not harm the princess or her child.” Ser Arthur says.

“Arthur this is unnecessary.” Lord Arel protests.

But Rickard is already throwing down his sword and his gauntlets, and on bended knee he stares at the Sword of the Morning and says. “I Rickard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and the protector of the horned one, do hereby swear on my life and those of my house not to harm my daughter the Princess Lyanna or her son.”

Rickard continues to look at the man after he has finished speaking and he can see the conflicting emotions on the man’s face before the sword of the morning eventually sighs and says. “Very well you may rise Lord Rickard. I shall not stand in your way.”

Rickard nods at the man and then moves towards the entrance of the tower, only to find Ser Gerold blocking the way his huge frame preventing a chance to move past. “Ser Gerold come now this is ridiculous what more proof do you want that I will not harm my daughter?” Rickard asks.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, seems to be torn and then he says his voice soft. “For too long did I stand by whilst the Kings of the Realm broke through their vows and allowed chaos to come into play. I stood by whilst Aerys raped and burned, but I will not stand by and allow you the chance to break through and harm the king or the princess. By rights I should slit your throat now and end you.”

Rickard feels the anger growing inside of him. “Then do it Ser. Do it and let this conversation come to an end. Do it so that I might not know the pain anymore. But know that you cannot stand alone, not against Robert Baratheon. Besides that is not what Ser Duncan the Tall would want now is it?”

“You dare mention his name here? You, of all people, the butcher of Bloodstone, the harridan of Ironsmith. You dare mention the name of the finest knight the realm has ever seen. I do not believe that you know truly, just what has started here. I should kill you.” Ser Gerold roars, at this Mors Umber begins walking forward but Rickard raises a hand to stop him.

“Then do it Ser, do it and die as well. Or do what the knight who so look up to would do and see to it that a man and his daughter are reunited.” Rickard says.

The knight is torn for a long time, and there is silence and Rickard’s heart is beating inside his chest, and then the knight says. “Very well you may pass, but I shall go with you.”

Rickard nods and then orders his men to stand down and wait outside, before following Ser Gerold up the steps of the tower, running up the last few. Ser Gerold stands outside the door, and when Rickard enters he sees his daughter lying on a bed of roses blood pressed out against the sheets, and his daughter’s handmaiden Wylla sat next to her. Rickard looks at the girl and nods before going to his daughter’s side. “Lyanna,” he says softly. “It is me, it is your father Rickard. I have come to take you home sweetling. Back to Winterfell.”

His daughter’s eyes are glazed and sweat is running down from her face, “Father? Is that you? I had thought you were dead, dead with Brandon in the flames of King’s Landing. The raven told me you had died, but I knew he was lying. I….. I am sorry father, for everything. For running away and not telling you, for not being a better daughter…. For Brandon’s death.”

Rickard kisses his daughter’s hair and says. “No Lyanna, it is I who should apologise. I should never have pushed you to marry Robert. I should have listened to you. Brandon, Brandon sealed his own fate. But you, you can still decide your own, come home with me sweetling. Come back to Winterfell.”

His daughter laughs somewhat, and Rickard is horrified to see blood coming out of his daughter’s mouth. “I… I cannot move papa. I cannot, it hurts it all hurts. I cannot become Robert’s wife, nor will I return to Winterfell. I will die now, but at least you will be here.”

“No Lya sweetling, you can’t die, you are stronger than that. Please Lya sweetling come home with me.” Rickard pleads, his eyes beginning to water.

His daughter takes his hand then and holds it tight. “Before I die, please….. Please promise you will protect my son…. Please promise me you will protect him from those who would do him harm please…..”

Rickard kisses his daughter’s cold hand and says. “I promise sweetling. I will protect your child with all my life, with everything I have. I promise.”

His daughter says nothing then she merely smiles as her eyes close and her breathing slows and then stops. Rickard holds his daughter’s hand for a long time after that, his grief overwhelming him, crying he holds his daughter’s hand and then her body, until a baby starts crying, where the noise comes from he is not sure, until he turns round and sees Wylla rocking a babe trying to soothe it. “Is that, is that her son?” he asks. The girl nervously nods her head and Rickard asks. “May I hold him?” After a moment’s hesitation the girl hands the child over to him, and he gasps, it’s as if he’s looking back at Ned when he was a babe, a long face, brown hair and grey eyes. Those eyes are looking at him now wondering who he is no doubt. “What did she call him?” he asks Wylla, his voice soft.

The girl is silent a moment and then she says in an equally soft voice. “Jonothor, my lord. For Jonothor the Giant.”

Rickard smiles then, the tales he had told his children had clearly left a lasting impact on them. “Jonothor Targaryen eh? Well my boy, we are going to have to shorten that somewhat for you to learn.” He looks at the girl and says. “Come with me, it is time we discussed what needs to be done.” Giving the child back to his daughter’s handmaiden, he walks out of the room nods to Hightower and then walks down the stairs and once Hightower has shown them to a room where meals were taken he asks for the other two knights of the Kingsguard as well as his own companions to enter the room. Once they are seated he points to his grandson and says. “My lords, Sers, may I present to you my grandson Jon Targaryen, a prince of the blood and half Stark.”

There is a shocked silence before Willam Dustin asks. “What do you intend to do with the child Your Grace? After all Lady Lyanna is dead and Robert Baratheon would want the child dead, as it is Rhaegar’s son.”

Ser Gerold speaks then before Rickard can even consider responding. “We will not allow you the chance to deny the child his rights. King Jonothor is the rightful king, and we do all we can to ensure he gets his throne.”

Robard speaks then. “So you would see more bloodshed and fighting to ensure a babe gets the throne, instead of waiting for a time when Robert Baratheon messes up, and he will.”

“If that is what it takes we shall do so.” Hightower responds.

“So you would kill us all here just if we did not support some dragon child? Pah. Robert Baratheon is a man grown and knows what war and winter are. This babe does not.” Mors Umber says.

Rickard looks at the man then, his grief there in his eyes and his words. “This babe is my grandson Mors, this babe is what this war was fought over. This babe would make a far better king than that fat oath. Tell me my lords, do you want to have to kiss the arses of some southern ponce, or do you want a chance to rule Westeros as we were supposed to?”

There is some murmuring at that and then Robard speaks then. “The pact of ice and fire never came to fruition though my lord. Cregan Stark never wanted the throne, though his cousin came close once.”

Rickard looks at him then and says. “Aye Cregan did not want the throne, and neither do I. but I will not allow my grandson to die to sate Robert’s bloodlust. My daughter is dead, my son is dead, I will not allow my grandson to die as well.”

“What do you intend to do then my lord?” Willam Dustin asks.

Rickard looks at the Kingsguard then and says. “I mean to keep my promise to my daughter. I mean to protect my grandson.”


	16. Hurricane

**9 th Month of 283 A.C. Nightsong**

**Eddard Stark**

Being left behind in Nightsong was not something Ned had agreed with, but he had seen the sense in why his father had done it. Just as there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, there had to if possible be a Stark commanding the northern army, it was just something that was done. Of course Nightsong was an intimidating castle, the place was steeped in history and Lord Durran Caron was a proud man a fierce warrior and someone Ned liked a fair bit. His son Bryce reminded Ned a bit of Benjen in just how active he was and how he could never remain still for longer than a few moments. There had been some troubling news when they had arrived at Nightsong at first, word from his father’s ally in court Simon Staunton, the man Ned liked little but he had very useful information. And whilst Ned had not shared his father’s concerns about whether or not Robert would stick to the betrothal before leaving King’s Landing, when this raven had come there had been definite worry, his friend, the man he considered a brother, had been whoring and wenching but had made no secret of his worries over Lyanna and her virtue. That had angered Ned, and he had been tempted to ride to King’s Landing and kill Robert there and then. Of course he had not done so and now with his father having returned from Dorne with Lyanna’s body, and with a babe and the three knights of Aerys Kingsguard there was a whole new issue to deal with.

They were alone in his father’s tent, and Ned was somewhat worried about how cold and solemn his father seemed. The boy, his nephew Jonothor was asleep in a makeshift cradle in the tent, and the three Kingsguard were present as well. Ned cleared his throat and asked. “What do you plan on doing with Lya’s son father? The second Robert learns of him, he will want to have his head on a pike. And that is something I cannot allow.”

His father looks at him then and says. “I will not allow the child to be handed over to Robert Baratheon. Were Lyanna alive and had she wanted to discuss the matter with Robert then perhaps I might have considered it. But she is not alive, and as such I will not hand over my grandson to a man who wants innocent children dead.”

Ned looks at the three Kingsguard in the tent who are looking at them both with suspicious eyes and swallows. “Then what do you intend to do? Having the three Kingsguard here will attract attention and would make Robert think something is up. They have refused to bend the knee and will want to fight Robert. But we are Robert’s allies and we cannot allow that. Whatever else they might have been before this rebellion, they aided and abetted in Rhaegar taking Lyanna. They were knights of the Kingsguard, but also men who have common sense, surely they should’ve tried harder to persuade the prince against this course of action, and saved the lives of many in the process. The consequences of their actions are just as much on them as they are on Rhaegar and Lyanna.”

His father looks at him then and asks. “So what would you have me do then Ned? Chain the Kingsguard and send them off to King’s Landing to face Robert’s judgement? I made them a promise that they would not be harmed when they were in my service, and I intend to stick with that. They remain here. But what would you have me do for Jon then?”

Ned was stuck for a moment and then he said. “Hide him father. No one need know where it is that he has come from. The men you went south with will never speak a word of this to anyone if you tell them not to. You promised to protect Lyanna’s son, then this is the best way to protect him. Hide him from sight, make it so that none would consider looking for a child that does not exist. Claim him as your bastard, my bastard, hells even Brandon’s bastard. But please do not risk him.”

His father looks at him a moment and then says. “A bastard eh? You would have me name my grandson a bastard to hide him from your friend’s wrath? You would have me lie about his parentage? I will not sully your mother’s honour by claiming him as mine. Nor will I make up the most ridiculous of claims that you sired a bastard, the boy might look like you, but your honour is too well known. And there is not a chance anyone with sense would think him to be Brandon’s bastard. Brandon was dead long before this boy was conceived. The Kingsguard here will not wish for him to be denied his rights, and besides claiming him as a bastard is still drawing attention to him. Hiding him brings the risk of always needing to look over one’s shoulder to ensure no one gathers the truth.”

Ned as a horrible feeling as to where this is going and it is with some trepidation he asks. “Then what do you intend to do with Jon, that would not endanger his safety and ensure you can keep to the promise you made to Lya?”

His father is silent a long time, and Ned can feel the eyes of the Kingsguard on them both, he eventually sighs and says. “I will declare for him and fight to put him on the throne as the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms.”

This comes as a huge blow to Ned, he had suspected but never thought it would occur. “You… you cannot do that. We foreswore any vows to the Targaryens when we named Robert our king. We fought to put Robert on the throne, we did everything to ensure Robert was on the throne. You cannot be considering breaking your oaths to Robert to put Lya’s child on the throne father? That is absolute madness, none will stand with you, and Robert himself will be wroth. He will want the child killed and he will threaten us as well. Benjen and mother will not be safe in the north, and my own wife and child will be in danger in Riverrun. Father this is suicide.”

His father is completely silent then and says. “It is the only decision that will guarantee Jonothor’s safety. Every other decision I have thought of leads to either him dying at the hands of that child killer Tywin Lannister, or at the hands of Robert Baratheon. I will not hide him away as if I am ashamed of him, I will not hide him away and then spend the rest of my days worrying over whether or not he will ever be found. Such a thing will take its toll on all of us. Better to be honest about it all and have done with it. I will fight to put my grandson on the throne, as it is the best way to ensure that he will remain safe.”

Ned feels torn over this and says. “But father, by fighting to put Jonothor on the throne you are running a very high risk here. He will always be in danger until he is sat on that throne and even then he might not sit the throne. Our own allies will look at us and wonder what has become of us, we will be seen as outcasts and traitors. None would fight for us as they would not want a Targaryen on the throne now that Robert sits the throne. We would be defeated, as ours is a cause without honour.”

His father snorts. “Always with the honour Ned. How many times must I tell you that honour will only get you so far. Honour will not warm your bed in winter when the darkness comes, honour will not prevent death from taking you. And honour will not ensure that Jonothor is safe. So long as he is alive and Robert Baratheon is alive, he will always be at risk, for there will be suspicions, and Robert has already shown he is suspicious of those rumours that are being spread. We must act, and act now. Jonothor shall be king one way or another. Besides, I would have thought you would be happy with this. It means your child killing friend no longer has a crown.”

Ned swallows then and says. “But we are only 12,000 men father. Others will not side with us, not now. Jonothor will always be at risk, and is this truly worth more death and destruction? Just to put a babe on the throne? Even then he would face more threats and risks. Is this truly what you wish?”

“It is not a case of doing what I wish, it is a case of doing what needs to be done. Hiding Jonothor from the world is not acceptable and has its own risks and worry. Ensuring he sits the throne is the only way we can ever truly be sure he is safe. My mind is made up and if you continue to protest I will seriously reconsider where your loyalties lie. Remember, Robert Baratheon was the man who threatened to have Jonothor and your sister killed should something come true.” His father says.

Ned feels as if he is being torn in two then and says. “That was not what he meant father and you know it. I do not understand, is this to do with ensuring someone of your blood sits the throne? These ambitions have seen two of my siblings dead, and now you wish to bring more war upon the family. Has your drive to see the throne in your power, more than the will to see the family safe?”

His father’s eyes flash then and his tone is cold when he responds. “I am doing this to ensure that the family is safe. You are naïve, if you think Robert Baratheon will not look to pin the blame for Lyanna’s death on us. With Tywin Lannister whispering in his ear, already he is growing more and more corrupt. Let us remove the man and the source of the poison and seat someone whom we know can be counted on. I will not lead my family to the gallows to suit Tywin Lannister’s purpose.”

“But you would lead us to the gallows for your own needs.” Ned counters.

“Enough.” His father roars. “I will not be questioned on this anymore. Either side with me or return to King’s Landing to the man who wanted you dead when you dared question him. I care not, but remove yourself from my sight.”

Ned bows his head and leaves his father’s tent, wandering the campsite for some time, feeling lost and confused. His father has changed, or has he? Ned realises now he never really knew his siblings, growing up in the Vale put distance between them all, and it is that which is showing now. He thinks on his foster brother, and the man he is supposedly becoming, Ned wants to believe there is some good left in Robert, but everything his father said is true, Robert is falling down a precipice, and whether or not he wants to be there is one thing. He knows for certain that Robert would never try and help him out if the roles were reversed.

His brooding is interrupted when he bumps into the little crangongman who has become a good friend of his, Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch and a fierce fighter looks at him then and bows. “My apologies Lord Eddard I had not seen you there.”

Ned waves off the apology and says. “I have told you many times Howland, I am just Ned, not a lord, that’s my father. But tell me what are you doing here, I had thought you would be with the others.”

His friend smiles somewhat and says. “I had needed to speak with Lord Caron about something. It is not important. So how did the meeting with your father go?”

Ned has long since stopped trying to figure out how his friend knows what is happening when others did not. He sighs and says. “Badly, he wishes to fight for Lya’s son’s right to the throne. And I do not know what to do.”

“You are unsure whom to side with, your father and your family and aid in protecting Lyanna’s child. Or the man you consider a friend and a brother, who rode beside you through all the battles. Not an easy task that one my lord. I do not envy you it.” Howland says.

“What would you do, if this was your choice to make?” Ned asks.

His friend is silent a long time and then responds. “I would side with my family. At the end of the day, Robert Baratheon was put on the throne, yes, and we did fight to put him on the throne. But he is someone who has shown what it is like for an untrained mind to become powerful too quickly. Corruption is rife already within the court from what we know. And Robert though he might be a foster brother, is not the one who came to aid you at the God’s Eye. That was your father, he was the man who has done everything he has to ensure you are safe and protected. Blood is thicker than claimed kinship.”

“But there is no honour in what my father is suggesting.” Ned protests.

His friend chuckles softly and says. “Honour is a fickle thing my lord. It is a danger and it is a blessing. But honour will not warm you at night, nor will honour hold you when you cry or die. Family will, duty will, and as the crow flies, it is now yours to decide. Honour or family, what will you go with Ned.”


	17. Beyond The Black

**Ninth Month of 283 A.C. Vulture’s Roost**

**Ser Lann Waters**

The orders had been clear, his father had wanted him and his brothers to go to wherever it might be that Rhaegar Targaryen had kept Lyanna Stark and to kill her and any children that she might have had. Lann knew why his father had asked him to do that, remove the Stark girl and his father could finally have his daughter as queen. Lann had met his sister a few times, though she had never paid much attention to him before, she would make a terrible queen, she had no sense in her head. Of course his father was blind to his trueborn children’s faults, he still wanted that airhead as his heir, and yet the boy was so ill suited to being a future Lord of the Westerlands that Lann really wanted to cry. And yet he would do his duty, for there were rewards promised for him and his siblings for succeeding in this mission. Though he knew it was one that his father did not expect them to survive, he supposed once this was all done, he would have to have words with his father. This would not, and he was not willing to be brought down low over this matter.

The man standing in front of him however was not the man he had thought to find. This was not even the place they were supposed to be at, but still he was intrigued as to what the man before him was doing, and with an army as well. “Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell, a pleasure to meet you. I had not thought to see you here, after all last I had heard you were serving time in exile in Essos.”

The Prince smiled somewhat and said. “Indeed I was. But my time in exile has come to an end. I returned home, to find out that my family has suffered a great many tragedies. I am here looking for answers, and I intend to find them.”

“And you believe that you will find the information you want here? I had thought that they were camped at that damnable Tower of Joy as it were. After all, that would make the most sense, with it being in isolation and not as well-known as this area.” Lann says.

The prince looks at him once and then says. “And I might ask you the same question, Ser. What would you, a bastard I presume want to do with three Kingsguard and a prince?”

Lann is impressed by the man, and says. “I am here looking, for the rightful king. Say what you wish about Robert Baratheon, and Rhaegar Targaryen, but I would rather see the rightful king on the throne, than some drunken lout with a whore as his queen.”

Oberyn looks at him a long moment and then says. “And which queen would that be Ser? The Stark one who would have been a replacement for my sister, or the blond one that the child killer is trying to shove down the usurper’s throat.”

Lann finds that he quite likes this man. “I was meaning the child killer’s daughter. The stark one is dead for all I can tell. After all it is the talk of the town when I came here. I was sent by men with Targaryen sympathies to look for the rightful king and their Kingsguard, to negotiate an alliance. After all the usurper is a man who has shown that he is unwilling to allow dragon sympathisers to breathe easy, what is the point of allowing such a man to remain living, when we are the ones who might be the ones to continue seeing his arse on the throne.”

Prince Oberyn smiles then and says. “I like you Ser. You did not tell me what your name was Ser. If I am to be working alongside you, I would like to know whom it is I am speaking to.”

Lann extends a hand and with an easy smile says. “Ser Lann Waters at your service my prince.”

“Waters eh?” the prince asks. “So are you a noble one? After all you look like one. So who were your parents? Judging by your blond hair, I would say a Lannister was at least your mother, and judging by your confidence someone else who were close to the Targaryens was your father.”

Lann smiles somewhat, knowing just how close the man is to the truth he says. “Aye well my father was a Lannister though he died long before I was actually born. But my mother was from the crownlands, and was somewhat known to the court. As such I suppose it would explain why I am so confident and as such why I am here.”

Martell’s eyes narrow and he says. “A Lannister as a father eh? And which Lannister was this?”

Lann smiles somewhat and says. “Oh he was a minor one my prince. Not any of the scumbags who killed Princess Elia and her children. I am here, to see that the rightful ruling family is restored to its rightful place. And that there is justice done for Princess Elia and her children.”

The prince looks at him then and says. “You certainly put forward a convincing argument Waters. But how do I know you are speaking the truth and are not simply lying to me to try and ensure that I can tell you what information I know to pass onto Tywin Lannister?”

Lann laughs then. “Oh my prince, if you think I would work for Tywin Lannister you are sorely mistaken. The man does not hold sway over all of the Westerlands, or Westerlanders after all the man was a tyrant and someone who holds little respect or love for his own people. The man saw my own father, his kin, dead for some petty reason or slight. No I am doing all of this so that I might bring Tywin Lannister down and broken.”

The prince is silent for a long time and then he bursts out laughing. “Oh you are good Ser. Very well then I shall tell you what I know and you will join my company.” Lann nods and then the prince continues. “From what I know there is no point going to the tower as the Kingsguard and the King have left, gone from there north to Highgarden I believe, where the king’s grandfather is planning something. What it is I know not, but I know there are old secrets here in the Roost that can aid us, I am waiting for more men to come, and when they do we shall ride for Highgarden. Now unless there is aught more you wish to speak of I must retire, I have a paramour who needs some company.”

Lann nods and watches the prince depart wondering what he can do with this information, the fake king will be in Highgarden, a perfect chance for them to get to work. He stands there a moment and then leaves to find his siblings, his brother Tybolt and his sister Myrcella, twins, and one without the other is unthinkable. His brother is a good warrior if somewhat hot headed, whilst his sister is beautiful and deserving of being queen. Once they are seated he tells them of his conversation. “Oberyn Martell is going to swear his spear and those of Dorne to the Targaryen Stark child, in order to get revenge for his sister and her children. We shall be going to Highgarden.”

His sister speaks then. “So then, what will we do brother? When Oberyn Martell figures out who we are exactly and it will not take all that long considering we shall be going with him, what will you plan on doing?”

Lann considers this for a moment and then says. “By the time anyone figures out who we are, we shall be long gone and the boy will be dead. By that point uncle Tywin will need to realise how valuable we are to his cause. We did not get Lyanna Stark, but we can get her child. Furthermore, there is a chance to sew more discord here as well.”

His sister looks at him then and says. “Are you planning on trying to get close to Rickard Stark or his son brother? After all Rickard Stark will be more suspicious of us, and Eddard Stark at this point will still be clinging to his honour like a dog clings to a bone.”

Lann smiles at his sister then and says. “Not necessarily. We already know that he has fallen out with Robert, what is there for him to stick onto? And he has been away from Winterfell for a long time, and his wife. You are an exceptionally beautiful woman Myrcella, no man with any urges in his brain would want. It is time for you to use the tools you have to good practice. Sleep with Eddard Stark and confuse his mind even more.”

His sister looks at him a moment and then says. “Easier said than done brother. Stark will definitely be up tight and looking for more reaction than this. We must look for other alternatives. Furthermore, who will be the done to kill the boy?”

All of them are silent then considering this and then Lann says. “Tybolt, how quickly do you reckon you can do the deed and sneak out before anyone notices something is amiss?”

His brother, a quick eye with a sword says. “Quite quickly, after all I did not earn my spurs by being slow. Of course I shall need a distraction, some sort of story for if I am to do this without the Kingsguard being there and watching my every more they will need to be distracted.”

Lann considers this a moment and then says. “We shall deal with this issue on a later date. But for sure, there will be time for concern and worry, something I shall deal with. But as long as you are sure that we can achieve this then I have nothing further to say.”

Myrcella speaks then and asks. “What will happen if we fail brother?”

Lann looks at his sister and then takes a hold of her hand and says. “Then we shall die and no one shall mourn our deaths. But I will not allow that I promise you that.” With that he and his siblings go their separate ways, Myrcella no doubt to find Prince Oberyn, and Tybolt to his drinking and gambling. Lann himself wanders around Vulture’s Roost, it was once a defensive castle, a fort perhaps. But he knows one tale that is told of the time when the horned ones fought the giants and Vulture’s Roost was the place where Jonothor the Giant made his stand. Breaking down three of the horned ones before eventually falling himself, but not before sending the Horned King running.

“It is not as impressive as it was in history, would you not agree?” a voice asks behind him, and Lann turns round his hand on his sword, the man he finds looking at him has a shock of orange hair and a shaggy beard, a black duck on a field of red on his armour.

“Yes, yes I would.” Lann says. “Definitely not as impressive as the tales make it out to be. But then again it has been a ruin for some time. Not since the first Dornish War has it been used. And there is no purpose in seeing it rebuilt.”

The man nods and then says. “Sorry I forgot my manners, I am Ser Rolly Flowers, otherwise known as Duck. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Ser Lann Waters,” he says shaking the man’s outstretched hand. “But why do they call you Duck? Is it because of the Duck emblazoned on your armour?”

The man laughs somewhat. “I can see why you might think that. But no, it is because I like cooking duck, it is a rarity but I make a fine duck soup when the time is right.”

Lann nods and then asks. “You are a long way from home Flowers. And with a Dornishmen’s sellsword company as well I am surprised.”

The man laughs again and says. “I can see why that might be. But I met Prince Oberyn during his time in Essos. Why it was in Tyrosh we met, and we became good friends. There are certain things that we both agree on.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” Lann asks intrigued.

The man grows serious and says. “That red or black, a dragon is a dragon, and we shall get our vengeance one way or another.”


	18. Metal Church

**10 th Month of 283 A.C. Highgarden**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

The past two months had been tense for Rickard, he had been dealing with many things, an infant, and the risk that infant faced at being killed by hired knives. Dealing with the Kingsguard who insisted on being heavily involved in the care of his grandson, something which he could understand, but something that did ultimately annoy him. And finally, the worry over Ned, his second son, the idealist child that he was, still strongly protested everything Rickard was doing, and that drove him madder than anything else. He was growing tired of reasoning with his son, and on more than one occasion had thought about just disinheriting the lad to spare himself the trouble, and then he thought of Brandon and Lyanna and he knew that he would never forgive himself for doing that. Eventually Ned had stopped his protests long enough for him to agree to come to Highgarden and if he still had doubts, well then Rickard was not going to stop him. They had one more man in their party as well, Lord Durran Caron had come from Nightsong to Highgarden with them, admittedly because he was tired of putting up with Baratheon tempers and he did not like Robert Baratheon one bit. A valued ally he would be.

Highgarden was a good a place as any, Rickard supposed with which to begin forming alliances to see his grandson on the throne. After all, the lords of the Reach had the most men to call to arms and they were also the lords whose men had not done much fighting during Robert’s Rebellion, that name, gods that name grated on him.  He knew that Mace Tyrell would be demanding of some things and some things Rickard he knew would be able to negotiate on. Still he knew that beginning as he did was important. “My lords I thank you for your hospitality, the lords of the Reach have always been known for their hospitality and this has just furthered that. Now we all know why we are here. Whilst Prince Rhaegar and his children by his first wife Princess Elia are dead, he was indeed married to my daughter Lyanna, and had a child by her, a son in fact, who does come before Prince Viserys in the line of succession. Furthermore, we all know that as you laid siege to Storm’s End and had a hand in the torching of some of the lands in the Stormlands, it would make sense to assume that Robert Baratheon would not look to kindly on you all. Hence I am asking for your support in seeing that my grandson gets what is rightfully his, and to prevent a tyrant from coming to power.”

There was murmuring at this and then Mace Tyrell spoke. “Thank you for that Lord Rickard. It is indeed true that as we laid siege to Storm’s End and caused some harm to the Stormlands during the war, Robert Baratheon might very well not look keenly on us and may indeed look to lessen our power. This is something that I have considered long and hard over the interceding months, and I do believe that siding with yourself and your grandson would be the most politically smart move for the Reach, as we have always shown our fair share of loyalty to House Targaryen and we are the home of chivalry. And whilst some might say Robert Baratheon is the war hero of all of this, his condoning of the murders of Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys as well as their mother, who were all innocents does go against the true code of chivalry.”

There was more murmuring at this and then Rickard spoke once more. “Indeed, whilst Robert Baratheon might have been this knightly hero to some during the rebellion, he was in fact a cold hearted man intent on gaining revenge for some slight he imagined had been done to him. He will claim he fought the war for my daughter, but the truth is, he fought the war because the idea of a throne appealed greatly to his vanity. Towards the end of the rebellion, he began voicing his doubts about the pure nature of my daughter, something as I am sure the fathers here will all agree is quite distressing and somewhat cause for anger. The man continually dishonoured my daughter with his remarks and his actions. Not only that, but he did demand that if my grandson was found he was brought forward and killed, he would accept no other course of action. It seems that the man truly has some sort of madness in him when it comes to the Targaryens. Such a man, whom discards all sense of knightly valour when it comes to one person or one family, is not someone I believe should sit the throne. We suffered through one mad king, why should we suffer through another?”

Rickard can see his bannermen nodding their heads in agreement, whilst his son looks distinctly uncomfortable. Lord Mace speaks once more. “Indeed this is all true my lord Rickard. Robert Baratheon has not shown any sort of sense of justice or mercy in his dealings with some of the lords who fought for King Aerys. This has caused some concern for me, especially as it was by your hand and your hand alone that my son and heir Willas returned safely to me, and for that I thank you, and am most definitely willing to engage in talks.”

Rickard nods and is about to speak when Lord Paxter Redwyne speaks. “This is all well and good, cursing Robert Baratheon and saying this, that and the other. But it all comes down to a matter of practicalities. There will be those who argue that this grandson of yours is not actually the son of Prince Rhaegar at all, but merely a child you have plucked out of thin air and claimed as such. He looks nothing like a Targaryen and seems all Stark, what is there to prevent people asking if he is in fact a bastard. After all we all know of Robert Baratheon’s nature.”

Rickard bristles then and says. “I assure my lord, my grandson is not a bastard nor is he a product of some sort of activity between my daughter and Robert Baratheon. As I can assure you that the man was nowhere near my daughter without supervision, and had he laid a hand on her I would have had him castrated. And then there is the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold should be able to explain it better than I.”

Ser Gerold Hightower the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, speaks slowly and surely. “Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna eloped from Harrenhal two years ago to this day. The elopement was consensual and the Princess and the Prince had been writing to one another for a good few moons since the Tourney at Harrenhal and as such they were willing conspirators in the plan. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell were present during the marriage that happened on the Isle of Faces, and were present during most of the Prince and Princess’ stay at the Tower of Joy and were present when the Lady Lyanna announced she was with child. I was there when the child was born and as such can confirm that the child that Lord Rickard says is his grandson is indeed his grandson. And my fellow members of the Kingsguard will confirm this as well.”

There is some murmurings there and Rickard can see the lords gathered, mainly Hightower, Rowan and Tarly nodding accepting this. Redwyne though is insistent. “That is all well and good Ser Gerold. But you are the lord commander of the Kingsguard, and as such would be bound to agree with what this man is saying, otherwise by right your duty would be with Prince Viserys at Dragonstone. But since you chose Prince Rhaegar then you would feel duty bound to remain with his wife. Was there not a handmaiden with the Princess at the tower?”

Beginning to grow tired of the man’s questioning Rickard asks the man. “Do you wish to speak to her then? To ease your mind?”

Redwyne must see something in his face, for he backs down then and says. “No my lord. Forgive me, I was merely asking to make sure of myself. I will step down now.”

Rickard nods and then says. “Now that, that is done. Let us turn to the discussion of terms and conditions. I believe that in return for certain trading privileges between the two of our kingdoms, and the reduction of certain trading tariffs, gaining your support and 60,000 men should be enough should it not?”

Lord Leyton Hightower speaks then his voice booming off of the walls. “Indeed it should be. After all trade between our two kingdoms could be most beneficial as well as the lessening of hostilities between us and the Riverlands. And of course with the crown’s backing we could look to engage in better trading terms between us and the Free Cities.”

There are nods of approval there and then Lord Willam Dustin speaks. “Aye it would be good to further trade between our two regions. Especially as we now have the ability to construct a town in the western coast. This should be something that can be worked on further and developed to be profitable for the both of us.”

More nodding and then Lord Rowan speaks then. “Whilst this is all good stuff. I must ask, Lord Rickard how you intend to soothe the Dornish. Rhaegar Targaryen absconding with your daughter would have inflamed Dornish tempers and they might be prone to accusing you all for the deaths of Princess Elia and her children. Prince Oberyn has supposedly been causing trouble already, how would you propose to deal with him?”

Rickard gives one of his rare smiles at the question and says. “I am glad you have asked that question Lord Rowan. As it is reasonable to assume that Dorne might not well be keen to side with us against Robert Baratheon, they hunger for vengeance more than they do for some petty slight the Silver Prince gave them. Princess Elia and her children were killed by men loyal to Tywin Lannister, and the fact that the man has just announced his own marriage to Tywin’s daughter, they are not likely to side with him. And furthermore one must remember that Prince Viserys whilst a boy, is still a son of the mad king, whilst my grandson is the son of Prince Rhaegar, the man everyone staked their hopes on. Such a thing will be played upon and staked on. Besides, the fact that Prince Oberyn is already coming to Highgarden is something that will make sure this alliance is secure.”

There is some shocked silence there and Mace Tyrell looks ready to bluster but of course he agreed to allow the Prince through so he cannot say anything. Eventually the man clears his throat and says. “Very well then, now that both sides have agreed to siding with one another. Let us talk terms.”

Rickard nods and takes up the conversation. “Yes, well in exchange for reduced trading tariffs and a promise for freer trade with the North and the Free Cities, you agree to commit 60,000 men to the cause.” Tyrell and his lords nod. Rickard goes on. “Furthermore, positions of court will be given to members of all your families, in balance with members of northern houses being at court.”

There is murmurs of approval. Then Mace speaks and offers something Rickard knew he would most likely make. “And to seal the alliance what about a betrothal between King Jonothor and my daughter Margaery? Let us make tie this to blood and make us one and the same.”

Some murmuring and then Ser Gerold speaks up. “The King is but a babe, as is your daughter my lord. Forgive me if I think this is a bit premature and unnecessary.”

The Lord of Highgarden bristles, but Rickard counters with. “It need not be completely binding my lord. But what of a betrothal between your son Willas and Princess Daenerys that way you are still getting a royal marriage and the other terms remain.”

There is silence for a long time and then Mace Tyrell says. “I would like very much for a royal marriage my lord. But I wish for my daughter to be best protected in the future, and the best way to ensure that is to see her wed to the king.”

Rickard considers this for a moment and he wonders briefly about offering his other grandson Robb to Mace’s daughter, but he knows Ned would most definitely protest and so he merely nods and says. “Very well, King Jonothor will be betrothed to your daughter Margaery, but the betrothal will not be completely binding and may be broken off by either side if they believe it to be against their needs. Furthermore, you shall raise 80,000 men.”

Tyrell nods and says. “We have an alliance my lord.” The two get up and shake hands and the treaty which Maester Lomys had been writing is signed by all the lords present, with Ned serving as a witness.

After that the meeting comes to an end and then there is a feast to celebrate their alliance. There is much merrymaking and happiness, Rickard smiles occasionally, and sees Ned relaxing talking to the cranongman Howland Reed as well as with the Greatjon Umber, and feels somewhat content. His mind begins aching with visions of a beast with a body of a man and a goat’s head, just as they begin playing the song of Jonothor the Giant, a northern tune one asked for by Lord Umber. Rickard smiles and then excuses himself, claiming illness, he retires to his room with Torrhen Umber, brother of the Greatjon beside him. He bids a goodnight to Torrhen and then goes to bed, he spends the night dreaming of chaotic scenes, a battle, a glowing sword and the kings of winter fighting and coming to life against a darkness with pale blue eyes and horns of a devil.

He awakes in the morning feeling better if somewhat tired and confused. It has been a long time since that dream has plagued him. Shaking it off he has his breakfast and once Martyn tells him of Prince Oberyn’s arrival and a meeting being convened in Lord Tyrell’s solar. Rickard dresses and soon finds himself in the man’s solar, with Prince Oberyn sat there, lounging in the chair opposite the Lord Oaf of Highgarden. Rickard nods at both and says. “Sorry I am late my lords.”

“It makes no matter my lord Stark, we were just beginning to speak of the terms of an alliance.” Mace Tyrell says.

Rickard sits down and says. “Very well then, so you have informed Prince Oberyn of the terms of our alliance I trust?”

Mace nods and says. “Yes I have, it seems he is quite happy with the terms are you not my Prince?”

Prince Oberyn, a fierce man and a temperamental one nods and says. “Indeed I am. What is between you two kingdoms is between the two of you. I am here on behalf of my brother Prince Doran, the Prince of Dorne. We are here to discuss what our terms of alliance would be.”

Rickard nods and says. “I suppose, this would include Gregor Clegane and Armory Lorch given to over to Dornish justice as well as certain recompense for the actions of the sack?”

The Prince nods. “Yes those are parts of the terms my brother has asked me to bring to you. We want Gregor Clegane and Armory Lorch brought to Dorne in chains where they might face a public trial and be condemned for the butchers they are. As for the recompense, well we lost men, but that is the same with any war. We want the remains of Princess Elia and her children returned to us and not left in King’s Landing to rot.”

Rickard considers this for a moment and then says. “And how many men would your brother commit to my grandson’s cause if we were to give them over?”

Prince Oberyn smiles and says. “I have already brought 6,000 men with me, another 5,000 could very well be raised quickly. And we are all hungry for blood my lord. We would not delay.”

Rickard looks at Mace for a moment and then says. “Very well I accept.”

Prince Oberyn smiles and then asks. “I noticed that there was a marcher lord present amongst your men my lord Stark. One Durran Caron, I must ask what is he doing here?”

Rickard had thought this question would be raised earlier and he says. “The man has foresworn Robert Baratheon, at great risk to himself and his family. He knows what he is risking and he is willing to go through with it. I do not doubt his loyalty.”

Prince Oberyn nods and then says. “I had meant to bring this up with you in private but seeing as we are all here, I think it wise to say that there are three Lannister bastards in my company. They found me at Vulture’s Roost and asked to join the company, they claim to be wanting to see King Jonothor on the throne, but from what I have observed and my own sources have told me they are working for Tywin Lannister. I would keep your guard up.”

Rickard nods and thanks the man before they all depart for their respective rooms, before retiring for the afternoon, Rickard checks in on his grandson and says to Ser Arthur. “There is a chance someone might try something here tonight. I will have the guard tripled. Make sure you are doubly on the watch.” The knight nods and then Rickard returns to his rooms. He spends sometime, reading over notes that Martyn had gathered for him, some of them are most tedious, others are very interesting, he knows that when news comes of all of this, there will be war.

He is still reading over the notes when he hears a crashing sound followed by a curse, which gets his attention, for he then hears a baby begin to cry. He stands up then and moves to grab Ice, his door opens and Martyn stands there. “There was an attempt on the life of the King my lord. They’ve captured the man who tried to do it.”

Rickard nods and follows Martyn out into the hallway where the man in question is slumped against a wall. Ser Arthur has his blade to the man’s throat. “I went out to speak with one of the guards about getting some food, and when I returned he was in the room. There was a struggle but as you can see he is still here and the king is alive.”

Rickard nods and asks. “Who is with the king?”

“Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold as well as the guards you posted there earlier.” The knight answers.

Rickard nods and then says. “The king will be staying in my chambers from now on.” The knight nods, and Rickard turns to the man slumped on the wall. He kicks the man in the stomach and all but growls. “Who sent you bastard?”

He expects the man to struggle but as he coughs and blood comes out he says two words that harden Rickard’s heart. “Robert Baratheon.”

He hears someone gasp behind him and turns to see Ned standing there looking scared. Rickard turns his full attention on his son and says. “You see what your friend would do. Now who will you side with, your friend or your nephew? Family or honour?”


	19. A Confused Man

**10 th Month of 283 A.C. Highgarden**

**Eddard Stark**

The sight of that man covered in blood, Dawn at his throat, and his nephew in Wylla’s arms crying, had left a firm imprint in his mind.  The words the assassin had uttered had shocked him to his core. All of his father’s arguments had been proven true in those two words, Robert, his friend, his oldest friend Robert, had sent a man after Jon to kill him. It was something he had a hard time comprehending and understanding, just how far his friend had fallen shocked him to his very core. The thoughts that were whirling around inside his head confused and frightened him, he wanted them gone, and he wanted the world to be plain and simple, yet as his father kept on saying nothing was ever plain and simple anymore. Gods this was too confusing, he supposed that was why he had sought his father out.

Rickard Stark was stood on the battlements of Highgarden looking out towards the Mander, when Ned approached him and asked softly. “Father?” his father turned round as if knowing what he was going to ask, but still waiting for him to ask. “I was wondering if we could speak of what has happened in recent times. For there is much that I have thought and much that has been troubling me.”

His father looks at him as if sizing him up, and then responds. “Very well, what do you wish to speak of son? The fact that your nephew was very nearly killed by a man sent by Robert Baratheon, a man whose own bloodlust it seems has not been sated or cooled. Or the fact that you might still side with the man because of your damned honour.”

Ned straightens up and asks. “I want to know how we can be sure that it was Robert who sent that man after Jonothor. After all apart from those who have seen Jonothor, and been told about him, no one else has actually seen him or spoken a word of him beyond what you have asked of them. How in the name of the old gods, could Robert know about him? When it seems that even the eunuch did not know where Prince Rhaegar had been for the duration of the war and before?”

It is a solid argument he thinks and yet his father looks at him as if he has grown a second head for his response is simple. “Someone always tells. And that eunuch is the master of whispers, and does not get his reputation for being a fool. He would have known.”

Ned is stumped by this, it is true enough. The man had seemed very slimy and untrustworthy when he had met him in King’s Landing, still he will fight for his friend if he has to. “But then, who amongst us would tell? Whom amongst the northern lords would betray us to Robert? None, they are too loyal to you, too afraid of you to break their promise of secrecy. The Dornishmen hold no love for us yes, but they did not join the cause until just before the attempt. And besides it was Prince Oberyn who spoke of the Lannister bastards, why would he do that unless he was the one who was employing them?”

His father merely looks at him and then responds. “Oberyn Martell might have wanted to do many things to Prince Rhaegar and to your sister for the harm they did his own sister, but he wants revenge for Princess Elia more than he hungers for doing some sort of messed up honour killing. The man would have no true reason for warning us if he was the one planning the attempt. Robert Baratheon is working alongside the Lannisters whether you wish to acknowledge it or not Ned. It is the simple truth. The man you knew is dead.”

Ned sighs then and says. “You are determined to ensure that there is more war then? You do not wish for a peaceful solution. All to ensure someone of your blood sits the throne.”

His father laughs then and responds. “Ah Ned, you are still so unsure of the world. How can that be, when you have fought in war and seen the horrors that it presents. Robert Baratheon is not the man that he once was. He is a man tainted by the crown he wears, and the whisperings of a viper known as Tywin Lannister. That the man and Robert Baratheon were working on seeing him married to Cersei Lannister before Lyanna’s body was even cold shows just how much regard they truly hold for us and for your sister.”

Ned is most definitely torn by this, and he uses the last argument he has to try and sway his father. “What about Lyanna, father? She asked you to protect Jonothor, is this truly the best way to go about protecting him? I do not think so, keeping him in Winterfell is the best way to ensure he is safe. Not on some throne in the south, mother herself would prefer her grandson raised in the north.”

His father looks at him with cold eyes then and says. “If you continue to use this argument I will seriously reconsider whether or not you shall return north with me when this is all done. Regardless, I will say this once more, your sister wanted her son protected, the best way to protect him is not to hide him and constantly look to see if he is going to be hunted down. It is to see him sat on the throne, that is his by right, and to see his enemies brought down. Your friend is his enemy now, and I will let nothing stand between my grandson and the throne. Now where do you stand son. Will you go with the family, or with the man who is no longer who he once was?”

A long moment of silence follows his father’s question, as Ned debates everything inside his head. He feels as though he is being torn in two, the need to remain loyal to Robert as honour dictates, as they all did, and the fact that Jonothor is his family, the last link he has to Lyanna, his nephew whom Robert tried to have killed. He sees Lyanna as she was last, smiling and happy, and then as a lifeless corpse, and then he sees Robert as he was when last Ned saw him, frothing at the mouth screaming for blood and for the death of innocents. And though he feels as if he is literally going against all he stands for he gets down on one knee in front of his father, with the wind blowing, and the Mander in sight. He speaks loudly and says. “I will side with my family, no matter how much it might pain me, and Robert has shown himself to be against the code with which we were raised. Family, is what I fought this war for, and it is family with which I now swear myself to. I will fight to see King Jonothor Targaryen on the throne, I will do what must be done, for without family we are nothing.” _Forgive me Robert,_ he thinks as he stands then.

His father seems please by that he has done. “Good, now that, that is out of the way, you may return inside. But before you do, I must ask you, do you wish to return to Riverrun to see your wife and child, and perhaps return home? It might make things easier for you.”

Ned considers this, a flash of red hair and a child’s laugh, how he longs to see that. It would not be right however, when there is work still to be done. It is with a heavy heart that he says. “I will remain with you father, I owe it to myself and to Robert to stay and see this through to the end.”

His father nods, and it seems that there is a hint of pride in his eyes. “Very well then. You may return inside son.  I will be inside soon enough.”

Ned nods, turns around and heads back in, where he bumps into Howland Reed, his old friend who always seems to be around. “Howland, I see you have managed to find me. Are you interested in continuing our conversation from this morning?”

His friend nods and says. “I am very interested, to hear what your views are on the whole situation of Jonothor the Giant, considering the fact that there were bones found near Last Hearth some time before the rebellion began that might be his.”

Ned sighs at this. “Bones, bones are being found everywhere nowadays. But we do not have any method of trying to prove that they are his, without solid proof I cannot truly agree that this is who they claim he is. I remain sceptical.”

His friend smiles somewhat and responds. “And what about those dreams you have been having. I know you have been having them Ned, it is writ over your face whenever you have that furrowed look on your face. The dreams of the horned people and the giants. You know there might well be a power there that might be of use in the times to come.”

Ned shakes his head. “I refuse to believe in something that cannot be proven before my own eyes. I am sorry Howland but this is something that we shall have to agree to disagree on.”

His friend merely nods and says. “Very well, my friend. But if you ever feel the need to discuss this again, I am always willing to.”

Ned nods and then they begin walking towards the great hall, upon entering the hall they see all the lords gathered to witness what his father has planned. Lords Tyrell, Rowan, Tarly, Redwyne, Fossoway and Hightower as well as their various bannermen are all gathered in the hall. From the north, there are Lords Umber, Dustin, Manderly, Bolton, Ryswell, Cerwyn, Karstark and Hornwood as well as their bannermen. The Florents and others had refused to come to Highgarden for this ceremony, and it seems they are planning something else, something more ‘honourable’ than that, as their letter had put it. The Lords of Dorne, are there as well, Prince Oberyn, Lord Dayne, Lord Blackmont, Lord Manwoody, Lady Fowler and Lord Toland gathered together preparing what is to come.

The murmuring in the hall comes to an end as his father walks in and says loudly. “My lords and ladies, I thank you all for coming to the hall tonight, we are here to formally declare our allegiance to the true King of Westeros, Jonothor Targaryen. We have all agreed to fight to put him on the throne and to do all that is necessary to see him sit the throne that is his by rights. Does anyone have any objections to this?”

There is silence, no objections then it would seem. Ned is very nervous as his father calls for Jonothor to be brought in, his nephew is dressed in a black and red doublet that looks too big for his body. His nephew is wide awake his eyes staring around wide, innocent taking it all in, Ned feels reassured that he has made the right choice when he looks at his nephew and thinks of how Robert would see him dead. The Kingsguard led by Ser Gerold stand in front of Wylla and his nephew, leading them to the Oakenseat, where Wylla places the babe in Ned’s father’s arms. Lord Rickard sits on the Oakenseat, as the Kingsguard stand at the foot of the throne.  

Ned now knowing this is his cue, walks up to the foot of the throne, the Kingsguard move to the side, Ned gets down on bended knee and says aloud. “I Eddard of the House Stark, in the name of House Stark do so hereby swear our eternal allegiance to you King Jonothor Targaryen, the rightful King of Westeros. We do foreswear any allegiance to the usurper Robert Baratheon and his heirs.” Ned stands and walks to the side.

Other lords and ladies get down on bended knee then and repeat the oath that he himself had just said. Once that is done, the lords stand and Ned’s father hands King Jonothor back to Wylla, and says loudly. “My lords and ladies. Today we have made a bold move, and soon enough it will come time to defend our oath and defend our king. I know everyone here is prepared to do just that. Let us get some rest, and in the morning we shall prepare for the next act in this defiance of a Tyrant.” There are loud cheers then, and Ned knows there will be a feast, and a celebration, but right now he is not in the mood for such things so as quietly as he can he slips from the Great Hall and makes his way back to his own room.

When he returns to his room, he wonders what had happened to that woman, Myrcella Waters she said her name was, he had met her in the sparring yard the day Prince Oberyn and his army had come. She had enchanted him somewhat, but she had disappeared, and he wondered why that was. He wondered, and wondered, and then his thoughts turned to his wife Catelyn and their son Robb in Riverrun and the guilt began eating at him. Gods he needed to get his head straight. He tries to catch some sleep, but it is no good, meaningless, twisting and turning. Unable to get his head straight, _red hair, brown hair, all of it mingling together and ghastly eyes staring at him, skin rotting, and a woman with a stoneheart in her chest staring at him, a red slit across her throat._ He awakes with a start, the sun has gone down by the time has woken up, he splashes some water on his face, and asks for some hot water to be prepared and once it is he washes himself and gets himself presentable for the events of that evening.

The feast, is forgettable, he does not truly focus all he wants to do is leave and go to bed. The day has been draining to say the least. He does not know who it is he is dancing with, all he knows is he wishes to go to bed and soon. Eventually the dancing does end, and he hurries out of the hall to bed. The night is easier than the day, he sleeps well, but as day comes, the light and easiness of the night, the day brings a new set of problems though. The man who attempted to kill Jonothor, is dragged before the lords and ladies in the Great Hall of Highgarden, and Ser Gerold Hightower’s voice booms forth. “Ser Tybolt Waters, you are here today to face the punishment due to you for trying to kill King Jonothor Targaryen. You will be executed for this crime. Do you have anything to say?”

The bastard knight merely laughs and says. “If you think this is the end of it all, you have no idea. There is more happening then you know. Dragons will dance once again. Kill me, but the tide of blood has begun.”

The man is shoved to his knees his neck bare in invitation. His father, draws Ice from its sheath and says in a commanding voice. “I Rickard, of the House Stark, do hereby announce your death for treason, in the name of Jonothor Targaryen, King of Westeros.” He raises his sword and in one clean motion removes the man’s head from his body. Ned sees his father pick the head up and roar. “Let it be known that treason will not go unpunished under the king’s reign. All hail the King!

The crowd take up the chant, and Ned feels something in his stomach churn, he closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them again he swears he sees a man with a goat’s head staring at him.


	20. Soul Searching

**11 th Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Jon Arryn**

The small council chamber was oppressively hot, despite it being winter, and all else being completely cold. It was the atmosphere, the tension in the room, the declaration that Rickard Stark had made had shocked them all and now they were trying to piece it all back together. Simon Staunton the former master of laws had resigned his post and fled back to Rook’s Rest, as he was Stark’s man, Jon could not say he blamed him. The council had met in an emergency meeting, Jon as hand was there, master of coin Ser Kevan Lannister was present, as were Grand Maester Pycelle, master of whispers Lord Varys, the new master of laws Lord Eldon Estermont, and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Barristan Selmy. Even Robert had attended the meeting.

“This is completely unacceptable.” Robert boomed. “The man has gone and stabbed us in the back, and now he is rallying men to his side. By the gods, I want his head on a spike and his chest caved in. Just like gods damned Rhaegar Targaryen.”

“And you would be well within your rights to have such a thing done Your Grace.” Eldon Estermont said. “The man swore to recognise you as his king, and then the minute his daughter died, turned against you, he will not win any support from those lords who know where their true loyalties lie.”

The king fumed. “Indeed, it seems to me that the man was only in this alliance because he wanted his daughter as queen. He is no better than half those bastards I had killed when they began talking badly about Lyanna. Gods, this whole thing because Rhaegar Targaryen became delusional and thought he could take what was not his but was mine. I wish I could kill him, again and again until he broke and Lyanna came back to me. But now that her father has gone and done this perhaps it should be him who I kill.”

Ser Kevan Lannister voiced his agreement. “That is what any respectable king would do Your Grace. When a vassal such as Stark goes against his vows, the only course of action is harsh retribution otherwise you shall look weak before others. And with Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen still on Dragonstone there are others who might raise a challenge.”

“Aye,” Robert said his anger growing with every passing minute. “The man has dared to question my hold on the throne, when he himself aided me in getting the damned thing. I will see to it that he learns why my house’s words are Ours is the Fury. The man shall know no peace until his bones rot in the ground.”

“The armies of the Stormlands and the Westerlands will be behind you all the way Your Grace.” Ser Kevan said confidently. “After all none wish to see another dragon on the throne. Not after the mad king.”

Robert roars his approval at this. “This shall be the ending of the Targaryen threat once and for all. We shall see them burn and die. And then when this is done we shall take the north and destroy it.”

At this Jon felt he had to speak. “Your Grace, this is madness. All of this, no one wants more war, the realm has barely recovered from the last one. Continuing this all would be tantamount to suicide.”

Robert looks at him then and there is such hatred in the man’s eyes that Jon, honestly worries his ward has gone too far. “Suicide? You think fighting to safe this throne, this thing that you said I should claim, is akin to suicide? No, I will not agree with that. It is something that must be protected at all costs. We all know how bad the Targaryens were. Mad and inbred, we do not want them back.”

Jon looks at the men around the council table all of whom are nodding along with Robert and then he says. “So you would fight another war? Another bloody war, to fight for the crown, and potentially risk seeing Ned die? You would do that to your own foster brother?”

Pycelle speaks then. “Eddard Stark swore his own oath to the Targaryen boy, Lord Varys has said as much. He has forfeited any right to the king’s mercy.”

Jon looks at Robert and asks. “Have you really forgotten all Ned did for you Your Grace? Is this truly worth ending that friendship?”

Robert does not look at him, cannot seem to look at him, but he eventually stands and says. “If Eddard Stark chooses to remain with the rebels, then he shall die just as the rest of them will.” With that he leaves the small council room, with Ser Barristan trailing after him.

The other council members begin discussing various other matters of import, such as sending the royal fleet to Dragonstone to bring the remaining Targaryens to King’s Landing and dealing with them, as well as discussing the state of the realm now and possible allies for the war to come. Jon though finds he cannot pay too much attention to them, and so he stands and excuses himself and leaves the council chamber, walking through the halls of the Red Keep until he comes to the King’s chambers. Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime Lannister are both present guarding the door. “I wish to see the king.” Jon says in a tone that brooks no argument.

Ser Barristan hesitates, but when they all hear Robert’s voice say. “Let him in.” they move aside and let him in. Robert is stood staring out of the window into the wider city, a glass of wine in his hand when he turns around. “Have you come to convince me to not wage war?”

Jon sighs and says. “Yes Your Grace. Waging war is by far too expensive to expect to go well for us. People fought to put you on the throne the first time because Aerys and Rhaegar were mad. This time, the claimant is a child, and many will feel less certain about the morality of what they are doing.”

“Morality, pah. There is no such thing. There is only truth and lies. And Rickard Stark lied to me. He must pay the price.” Robert says.

“Not so, you are not so gone to think yourself another Tywin Lannister Your Grace. The man is one thing, but becoming like him would alienate too many people. And besides, he will not turn away from your cause, not now, not with Cersei Lannister your wife.” Jon responds.

The king grumbles at that. “It was you who suggested I wed the wench. I was perfectly happy to wait for Lyanna, and now she is dead and there will be war. I will not stand to have a spawn of Rhaegar and his raping of my beautiful Lyanna sit the throne. I will not have it. Rickard Stark has sealed his own fate with this action.”

Jon runs a hand through his thinning hair, asks. “How do you plan on winning? We know from Varys that Stark has got some 80,000 Reachmen with him, as well as 11,000 Dornishmen and some 12,000 northmen. We have the armies of the Stormlands and the Westerlands. The lords of the crownlands have no solid strength. And whilst the lords of the Vale will answer the call, they will not be happy. No war is not the answer.”

“It is the only thing that will keep this crown safe on my head. I remember one thing from my lessons at the Eyrie, it was that had Daemon Blackfyre won the crown he would have had to keep fighting to defend it. As the Targaryens did. Better to remove the threat now then to suffer later on. I will keep fighting, I will avenge Lyanna and remove her father. And I shall free Ned.” The king responds.

“And how do you know Ned did not side with his father? After all, the man loves his family, and has lost a lot during this rebellion.” Jon asks.

The king looks at him as if he has just been struck. “No!” he booms. “I refuse to accept that Ned would willingly betray me. He is my brother in all but name, his honour would demand that he side with me. His father must have held him captive and forced him to swear to the dragonspawn.”

Jon sighs. “That is one reason why he would have sided with his father Your Grace. Ned is someone who values the code of honour highly, and killing innocent children is not something he could abide by.”

Robert roars back. “No. Honour demands he stand by me, as he swore he would. If he has betrayed me he will die, but I refuse to believe that. In fact I would name him Lord of Winterfell right now.”

“I do not think this will work Your Grace, the odds are stacked against us. A Council must be called.” Jon says.

“Why would it not?” Robert questioned. “The Florents and their allies have raised 20,000 men and are causing bother for Tyrell and Stark. It is time we pushed the advantage.”

“And I say there will be nothing short of defeat with war. You cannot win all the time Robert. Call a council and show the realm just how benevolent you are.” Jon pleads.

“Benevolent?” Robert sneers. “You would have me look weak before the lords of the realm. That is what calling a council will make me look like. A weak king afraid of his chances in war.”

“It will make you look like a true and just king, who though he knows he is right, and is the true king, is not afraid to stand for what he believes in. Allow the lords of the realm a chance to speak, and they will not fail you I promise you. And once you have all of their backing, they will not stand against you when you deal with the Targaryens.” Jon says.

The king considers this, and Jon knows the thought of having to fight Ned is causing him to weigh it up, he hopes dearly that the man might well answer yes. There is a long silence, as the king thinks and weighs it all up, and when he eventually speaks his anger is still there but his tone is somewhat resigned. “Very well, call the council. Go and speak to Stark and the other traitors. But if they refuse, kill them all. Ser Jaime and Ser Meryn shall go with you.”

Jon nods and bows before the king before leaving the room. He ponders how it all came to this, and if perhaps siding with Tywin Lannister was truly the wisest decision. Shaking off the thoughts, over the next day and a half he begins making the plans and preparations to ride off to Bitterbridge where the Starks and their allies are camped. He briefs the two Kingsguard coming with him, as well as the men from the Vale he will be taking. They all know their duty, acting as an armed escort preparing for any likelihood, he has some fifty men with him finally. And when he tells his wife Lysa, that she shall be travelling back to the Vale by land, she seems happy enough, even if it does come across somewhat sad. He says goodbye to her and their son Jasper with a heavy heart. They leave some three days before he does, and when he sets out he nods to the king, they both know what is at stake here, should he fail war will come.

The journey to Bitterbridge is weighed down with such thoughts, all of this is turning in his mind. Things he could have and perhaps should have done differently, all of this echoes in his mind and he wonders, and wonders. But wondering never does anyone any good as his own father was so prone to saying. By the gods he is tired, but he wants to know where things will be going from here, and it is this uncertainty that drives him on towards Bitterbridge. It takes them perhaps a week to reach the place where once Maegor Targaryen painted the Faith red with blood. As they arrive the see the banners of many score houses gathered, the direwolf of Stark, the roaring giant of Umber, the horse of Ryswell, the Flayed man of Bolton, the rose of Tyrell, the Huntsman of Tarly, the Tower of Hightower and most surprisingly the Sun and Spear of Martell, the sword and star of Dayne and many other sigils. Jon calls his party to a stop and they make camp outside the town, and settle in for the night.

The next morning Jon and his guards ride to the gates of Bitterbridge and are allowed in. they are escorted into the main hall of Bitterbridge where they are greeted by Lord Rickard Stark, Lord Mace Tyrell, Prince Oberyn Martell and Ned. Ned’s inclusion is somewhat of a surprise no doubt meant to throw him off the scent. That the baby king is present as well, sat in the arms of his wet nurse whilst the Kingsguard are there is a sure sign of strength by Stark, clever very clever. Stark speaks first. “Lord Arryn, how nice of you to join us. Have you seen sense and realised that the king we fought to put on the throne is not the man he was then? Have you come to beg forgiveness and to bend the knee to the true king?”

“The true king sits on the Iron Throne in King’s Landing my lord. The child in front of me, is nothing but that. A child whom you have crowned to fulfil your own ambition and a pity you it. No I have come with an offer from the king.” Jon said.

“An offer, from a man who wishes to see children killed and who dishonoured my daughter and her memory. Why would I wish to listen to such an offer?” Rickard Stark asks.

“Because it is the only offer that prevents war from happening and ensuring that your grandson might still yet live. And I know you Lord Rickard you are not a man to go about for pointless bloodshed.” Jon says.

“My lord, I would not listen to this man with his honeyed words. When he has the Kingslayer in his service. A true oath breaker that.” Ser Gerold Hightower says.

Jon sees Lannister stiffen but he says nothing, and instead Jon speaks. “Ser Jaime has nothing to do with these negotiations Ser Gerold. And I would have you be quiet in such things. This is between myself and Lord Rickard and his allies, not you. Now Lord Rickard are you willing to speak of a council or not?”

Lord Rickard looks at him then and makes as if to speak but then Prince Oberyn speaks his tone harsh. “Why should we agree to this council Lord Arryn? We have more men than your false king who came to the throne over the bodies of innocents. If it comes to it we shall fight and win.”

Jon had expected this line of argument and counters. “And if you fight, the king you have chosen will ascend the throne over more innocent bodies than Robert Baratheon has. Either you fight and face that, or you accept the Great Council and a chance to gain legitimacy.”

Mace Tyrell snorts then and says. “Legitimacy, oh now that is good. There is only one way to gain true legitimacy, and that is through having a claim on the throne. King Jonothor has more of a claim on the throne as Prince Rhaegar’s son than Robert Baratheon will ever have. He will sit the throne.”

Jon is about to give up when Rickard speaks. “Say I was to agree to go to this council where would it be held?”

“King’s Landing my lord. That is the seat of power for the ruling dynasty and it would make sense to sort this issue out once and for all.” Jon responds.

Lord Stark nods and says. “That does make sense, though if we are to attend I have terms that will need to be agreed and met. You are the king’s hand are you not?” Jon nods. “Then you can speak for the king without us needing to worry about time delays and such.”

“And what terms would you have us discuss my lord?” Jon asks, wary.

“Firstly, that if we are to hold this council it be held in the throne room of King’s Landing, all lords of import be allowed to attend as deeming the importance of the event. Secondly, both claimants be present in the throne room during the deliberations with their Kingsguard. Thirdly no weapons shall be allowed into the throne room during deliberations apart from the swords of the Kingsguard.” Rickard Stark says.

Jon considers this for a moment and then responds. “All reasonable demands my lord. I would add one last thing, that all and any armies gathered by the lords of the realm who attend this meeting do not bring their armies inside the city of King’s Landing they might well camp around the city but they cannot come into the city.”

Lord Rickard nods his approval. “That does seem appropriate. There is one more thing I wished to cement. If you are agreeable, I would limit the number of lords who can actually attend. It is all well and good having the Great Lords present as well as their most important bannermen attend, but having the bannermen of bannermen attend is something that would be most strenuous and unnecessary.”

“What would you suggest then my lord?” Jon asks.

Stark gives one of his rare smiles and says. “The Great houses will attend the council, their most important bannermen will attend, no lords who are bannermen of these most important bannermen to the great lords can attend. And furthermore no knightly houses may attend unless they are considered important bannermen, by that I mean houses such as Templeton and Cox. All other knightly houses cannot attend.”

A most unusual request, but Jon thinks this through and sees the wisdom in this, soon enough they will have a clear winner, he believes, and as such he agrees. “Very well then. I accept on behalf of King Robert.” They both shake hands then and later on iron some other details of the council, and preparations are made for them all to return to King’s Landing, for the first great council in fifty years. The pendulum of destiny has been cast.


	21. Prophecies

**11 th Month of 283 A.C. Riverrun**

**Lady Catelyn Stark**

She missed Lysa, whilst she and her sister’s relationship had been somewhat strained in recent years especially since Petyr had been sent away for reasons neither her father or sister would ever speak of, they had become closer with the birth of their sons.  Her Robb with his shock of auburn hair and blue eyes was the jewel of her life, he was such an active little boy, was nearly a year old and already he was tottering around and speaking words that made little to no sense. She could not wait to see her husband meet their son, she worried somewhat if he would be happy that their son looked more Tully than Stark but he had seemed a good man when they had last met. As for Lysa’s own son Jasper, he was a quiet baby, the same age as Robb, with a mop of brown hair and blue eyes he rarely spoke but he seemed more intrigued by the world around him observing it with piercing eyes. At least that is what he had seemed like when last Catelyn had seen her sister for Lysa and her son had left for King’s Landing some time ago. Now they were likely in the Vale if what father said was true.

There was a lot of concern in Riverrun, after all letters had been coming from King’s Landing, writ in the hand of Tywin Lannister, making veiled threats of what would happen if her father did not side with Robert Baratheon at the great council that had been called. Something akin to being trapped between the Westerlands and the Vale, it had made her father angry to be threatened by the man who had used tricks to get what he had wanted. That combined with her own husband’s letter where he had expressed his concern for her and their son, and that he wished them well, that he would see them soon, made Catelyn truly worry about all of this. Especially as she had been asked to attend the meeting her father was holding with Lord Jonos Bracken and Lord Raymun Darry both of whom had come to argue their cases. Usually Edmure, her little brother who had turned fifteen some two weeks ago would attend, but it seemed he had fallen ill.

Her father spoke first. “My lords Darry and Bracken, I thank you for coming to Riverrun. There is a lot of things that are about to happen in the realm. With there being two claimants pressing, their claim to the throne. I would hear what you both have to say, on whom we should vote for in this council. Lord Bracken you may go first.”

Jonos Bracken, is a big man with broad shoulders, speaks. “Thank you my lord. I believe that we as a kingdom should stand behind our oaths that were made during the rebellion. We fought to put Robert Baratheon on the throne, and as such we must stand beside the man. After all should we break that oath, we are no better than Aerys the mad king, and his own discrepancies in breaking oaths.”

Catelyn sees her father’s face tense somewhat, and Lord Darry speaks then. “I believe that making such a claim is tenuous and could be counted as extreme my lord. Aerys Targaryen was mad everyone knows this. And yet when my family fought, we fought for Prince Rhaegar, a man with some sense of honour and decency. Lord Rickard has stated that his daughter and the prince wed out of a sense of mutual attraction and not the rape that Robert Baratheon has claimed. Baratheon himself is a man who has given way to the power and corruption that comes with the crown.”

Jonos speaks then. “And yet the man is a warrior, not a babe in swaddling clothes. Furthermore, the loyalty of House Tully and by circumstance your bannermen have been questioned. As you are related by marriage to the Starks, your daughter has birthed the heir to the heir to Winterfell. And whilst one daughter is married to the hand of the king, she is away from the action. Supporting Robert Baratheon is a wise move as it would ensure that the loyalties of this kingdom are not brought into question. After all we are always the kingdom that suffers during war.”

Raymun Darry speaks then. “Was it not Eddard Stark that Robert Baratheon threatened? We have all heard of their argument after the sack of king’s landing. Baratheon is a man who will now see all Starks as he sees the dragons. There will be no sparing for those who are engaged to them.”

Bracken stumbles then. “That…. That… that was a threat made in the heat of the moment. I was there when it happened. It cannot be true that the two would come to blows, they are like brothers. Anyone with eyes could see that.”

Catelyn has the urge to speak then. “It is one thing to be like brothers, and it is another to have that brother threaten someone who is in your family, by blood. The rumours have come this far about that threat, and is it not suspicious that the man did marry Cersei Lannister not a minute after we all received news of Lyanna Stark’s death?”

Jonos Bracken founders then and says. “It was pure chance that happened. Had Lyanna Stark survived, then the two would have married and all would be well. Rickard Stark is acting out of pure chance and ambition. He is trying to get his blood on the throne, nothing more.”

Raymun Darry counters this. “As is Tywin Lannister. He came late to the cause in the rebellion, the sack was an act of gross calculation. Baratheon is falling and I do not want to see the riverlands fall with him. I urge you Lord Hoster to side with the only dynasty that can rule Westeros, the Targaryens.”

Catelyn looks at her father, and sees that he is deep in thought. She herself is wondering which way would be the best way to go. The Targaryens ruled Westeros for nearly three hundred years, there were wars and there was peace, there was reform and there was unity, but Aerys had broken that. Who were they to judge a new dynasty that had only just been formed, but it was telling that its main backer had gone and left the alliance due to insults both real and imagined. She was removed from her thoughts when her father spoke. “My lords, I thank you both for coming and presenting your arguments. They are compelling arguments, and after much deliberation I have come to the conclusion that it would be best for the riverlands and for House Tully if we side with Lord Rickard Stark and King Jonothor Targaryen. You may both leave now and prepare for the council. I have much to discuss with my daughter.”

Both lords’ bow and leave, leaving Catelyn alone in the solar with her father. Hoster Tully seems to have aged somewhat during the course of this meeting, something that worries her just as much as Edmure’s illness. She speaks first. “Are you certain of this decision father?”

Her father looks at her then, his eyes tired. “Yes little Cat I am. Robert Baratheon has begun a descent into an abyss that I do not want a part of. My own eyes and ears in the city, have told me as much. Our words demanded that I make this decision. Whilst it pains me to see Lysa on the other side, this must be done for the good of the kingdom as well as for us.”

“And what of the threats Tywin Lannister has been making? Do you not believe he will go through with them?” Catelyn asks.

Father sighs then. “I know not little Cat. I do not believe he will, not whilst the council is happening, such an act would drive more people away from Robert rather than into his arms. Tywin Lannister is many things but he is not a fool.  He will wait and bide his time and then remember, if Baratheon wins then we might well need to begin preparing. But I do not think he will.”

“Why is that father? Baratheon, is a man who has won the war, he is seen as a valiant warrior king. Whereas the claimant the Starks are pushing for is a babe.” Catelyn counters.

Her father laughs then. “You always were quick little Cat. That is true, but at the same time, Robert Baratheon would need to kill the baby king, and that would therefore mean his reign is built on the bodies of innocents even more so than it is now. This is something that I do not think the man would want, nor is it something many lords could stomach.”

“Is this something you intend to use at the council then father?” Catelyn asks intrigued.

Her father nods. “Yes, yes I do. Baratheon sits on the throne uneasily, he might have support, but how long will it last with the thing that his so called beloved had with Rhaegar Targaryen is in front of him I know not. If we can exploit that, then others will see him for the monster he truly is. And the throne will be your nephew’s.”

“I see. But what will happen to Lysa and her family when this council ends, if King Jonothor wins as you suspect he will?” Catelyn asks

Her father seems pained at this. “I… if her husband still has his wits around him when all this is done they will bend the knee and be pardoned and retire to the Vale. If not, then we shall have to act.”

“Act?” Catelyn asks somewhat confused. “In what manner?”

Her father looks somewhat more grief stricken when he says. “Jon Arryn may need to be removed should he refuse to bend the knee. He is a good man, but I will not have your sister and her son be endangered because of a man’s foolish pride.”

Catelyn is stunned by this but accepts it with some difficulty and a great period of silence follows, before she stands and kisses her father’s forehead. “I will leave you to your rest father, I will go and check on Edmure.” Her father nods his thanks and she turns and leaves the solar, all kinds of thoughts brewing in her head there being a lot of worry, it is only when she enters her brother’s room that she realises that she did not ask what would be happening with her and her son, though she supposes she shall be remaining here until such time as all is settled.

Edmure’s condition was not much improved from the last time she had visited him. His skin was hot to touch, and sweat often came down from his forehead. He murmured incoherently, and once or twice sat up in shock from the blow that had been dealt him some time ago, and then rescinded into a dream filled state. She worried for her brother, he was the heir to Riverrun and she knew her father would be distraught to seem him die, she would be as well, but something was going inside his head that would not allow him to return to them, to the land of the living. She sat with him from a period of time, speaking to him of all that was occurring as she knew he would like, and then when she felt she could do no more she got up and left, but not before kissing his forehead as she had done their father’s.

From her brother’s room she made her way to where she and her son slept, when she opened the doors she was greeted by a scream of delight and soon had a blur of red holding her skirts. She looked down and laughed. “Hello, there sweetling, and how are you?” she looks at her handmaiden Netty and asks. “Has he been causing you too much trouble Netty?”

Her handmaiden shakes her head. “No my lady, he has been a delight as always.”

“You may take some rest now Netty, I shall play with my son.” Catelyn says, her handmaiden nods and leaves. Once she has gone, Catelyn picks her son up and begins tickling him, as he squeals in delight she asks. “So what have you been doing then sweetling?”

Her son laughs and kisses her cheek and then pointing to the window, he says. “Wolf mama.”


	22. A Wise Man Once Said

**3 rd Month of 284 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Grand Maester Pycelle**

Winter held Westeros firmly in its grasp, the snow covered King’s Landing for miles around, the land surrounding the city was completely covered as well, and if reports could be believed this was also true for the other kingdoms. The weather was what had delayed many lords from arriving though now that the moons had passed and the lords of the realm had gathered in their masses. The armies as per the terms of the treaty negotiated by Lords Stark and Arryn were camped outside the city, and as such Pycelle could see their banners floating from where he was standing on the battlements of the Red Keep. Close together were the banners of House Stark and their bannermen as well as House Tyrell and their bannermen, the sun and spear of House Martell and their bannermen were also closely gathered around where the Starks had made their ground. The leaping trout of House Tully, the wierwood of House Blackwood and many other of their bannermen were also camped near the Stark led camp, and floating proudly in the wind was the three headed red dragon on a field of Black of House Targaryen.

 On the opposite side of this flying high as well was the crowned stag of House Baratheon, followed closely by the Lion of Lannister the Falcon and Moon of House Arryn, their bannermen were all gathered and there was the surprise of the fox of House Florent and their allies gathered around the camp ground of where the King had ordered his brother Stannis to set up camp.

These observations intrigued Pycelle for it clearly showed who was siding with whom, but what was even more interesting was the banners of the lords in the middle of these two opposing camps who it seemed were undecided. The black iron rods and studs of House Royce of Runestone was the most prominent house in the middle ground which Pycelle had deemed the undecided camp. Along with many other lords from the crownlands, but they would not play that big a role in the council Pycelle thought.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the voice of his lord, and the man who should’ve taken the throne. “So what are your thoughts on how this will play out then Pycelle? Does the king stand a good chance?”

Pycelle considered this question and then responded. “I do believe that the king will manage to win by the slightest margin my lord. The lords gathered under the Baratheon banner hold more weight than those under the dragon banner. And the lords and the commoners will remember that House Stark was once sworn to Robert Baratheon as well.”

He sees his lord nod. “Aye that they shall. For Rickard Stark made a grave error in breaking his vows to Robert Baratheon. Had it been Stannis Baratheon, I would have agreed to his mechanisations. But as it was not to be, many will look and wonder why they would want a babe on the throne who looks more like Eddard Stark than Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Pycelle nods. “It is indeed strange that the babe looks more like his uncle than his supposed father. There has been no solid explanation for this, and as of yet, there were no previous marriages between House Stark and House Targaryen to look back on.”

His lord hums in agreement and when they turn round and see the Queen glowing beautifully in the morning light, and her brother the knight of the Kingsguard Ser Jaime Lannister whom he knew, his lord wanted to be returned as his heir. The queen nodded her head to them and said. “You wished to speak to me father?”

Tywin Lannister in that moment becomes the fierce Lord of Casterly Rock, the proud man who had ruled Westeros for twenty years. “Yes indeed I did Your Grace. I have asked you here, to look out onto the fields beyond the city and to tell me what you see.”

The Queen straightens and looks out casting a scrutinizing eye on the banners and the land beyond them. When she is done looking she looks back at her father and says. “I see the banners of the great houses and their bannermen father. I see those cowards who have not yet chosen a side.”

Lord Tywin shakes his head then and says. “They are not cowards Cersei. They are the lords who will decide this council. They are the ones who need to be charmed and wooed. Robert Baratheon will win Royce over with his bluster and warrior values, but houses like Sunglass, Wydman, Graceford, and even Rosby will need to be charmed. That is where you come in, charm them, flirt with them, and promise them the world in exchange for their votes and you will sit that throne by the time this council is over.”

And this was why Tywin Lannister should have been king, Pycelle thought, the man saw everything, even the things that he himself had missed. His daughter snorted. “Why should I have to do this father? I am the Queen, Robert Baratheon was crowned king. There is no doubting who the true rulers of Westeros are.”

Pycelle saw his lord’s face flash anger for a moment and then his voice was calm. “You must charm them because they put your husband on the throne, and without them we are nothing. Now are you with child yet?”

The queen was silent a moment and then said. “We coupled last night father, the fourth time this week. Soon enough his seed will take root and I shall be with child. I promise you, this shall not fail.”

Her father nods and says. “Good, for I shall not have the Starks continue their march to dominance. For nearly three hundred years they do not get involved in the south and then suddenly this interest comes. I am not sure what it is, but I know that it will end with this council.”

Pycelle nods and then the Queen speaks. “Of course it will end, the Starks are savages, they know nothing of the south and the south does not know them. They will flounder with their savagery and their barbarity. I do not believe they will win.”

Ser Jaime speaks then. “And yet they have got the Tyrells and the lords of the Reach with them. The heart of chivalry rides with the Starks, I do not think they would have done that had they thought the Starks savages and barbarians sister.”

A smart observation, but of course his lord says. “Stark promised his grandson to Margaery Tyrell, Mace Tyrell would always come once that was done. But yes, the essence of what you are saying is true Jaime. Once this council is done you shall be stripped of that white cloak and will return as heir to the Rock. A marriage must be negotiated for you.”

Pycelle sees the protestation about to form on the young lion’s lips and shakes his head, and the man is quiet at that. Pycelle trying to cover the silence speaks then. “A marriage, between Ser Jaime and one of Baratheon’s main allies, House Waynwood, after all Ser Elys  Waynwood has many daughters.”

Tywin nods at him and then says. “A smart match one which gives us a chance at perhaps gaining the Vale some way or the other.  For now though, there is the matter of this child king. The men sent out to do the job failed, but thankfully had the sense to pin the blame on the king, yet there will come a time when it is brought up and we shall all need to be prepared for it.”

Pycelle takes his cue from Lord Tywin. “So far I have gathered a list of six men who could take the fall for this. All of them are from the Lannisport branch, though one does have a relation to the Baneforts.”

His lord seizes on this. “And as the Baneforts are no here to defend themselves, Robert will very well act out on this need.”

“But what reason would they have for removing the boy and pinning it on him?” the queen asks.

Pycelle speaks then. “The Baneforts have long been antagonistic to House Lannister Your Grace. They might have done this deed as a way of pinning the blame on us and then the King. As we are connected to the king and have reason to have wanted to remove Lyanna Stark and her babe, the king might well look to blame us. Blaming the absent Baneforts does make the most sense. They are one less threat.”

The queen nodded and then asked. “Should I be the one to bring this up?”

His lord, shakes his head. “No, wait for the man to bring the accusations up. Only then must you answer with what we have devised here. And Pycelle you are to lay the trail straight to them.”

Pycelle nods and then when the king dismisses him, he turns and walks down the steps slowly, he is getting older after all, and continues on his way towards his rooms, getting ready to plan his next move. As he wanders through the halls of the Red Keep, he thinks of the all the kings he has served here, he had come to court first of all as an understudy during the reign of King Maekar, the man had been harsh and cold, but Pycelle, had been young then and foolish. He had returned to the citadel to continue his studies and when he was finally ready, he had returned to King’s Landing to serve as grand maester during the latter years of King Aegon the Fortunate’s reign. The king had been a good man, a kind man and a good king, but he was not someone who could stand the bitter tide that had come as a result of his reforms. King Jaehaerys had been a nice king, an amiable man and someone with strength underneath the frailty, and he would have been a good king, had he survived. King Aerys, King Aerys was a man with great appetites and not much patience for ruling, and the less said about him the better.

It was as he was walking back to his rooms that he sees the eunuch walking past as well, they both stop and stare at one another for a moment. A battle of wills, seeing who can hold out the longest until the eunuch breaks and smiles. “Ah maester, so nice to see you. Have you just come from plotting with your master then? Who is going to be the casualty today?”

Keeping his face as straight as possible he retorts. “No one Varys, but I do hope you are wrapped up warm for those children you are going to visit. It is quite cold outside and there are wolves about.”

The eunuch titters. “Oh dearie me. The winter need not worry me. After all wolves are no match for the wrath of a stag are they not? And besides, I am only half a man, without balls. I do not think the Starks would prey on me.”

“That is true, but then I suppose no one wants the stain of you on their teeth or claws. You do run a slippery service eunuch.” Pycelle retorts.

The eunuch holds his hands up in a show of mock hurt. “Oh my, Pycelle, you wound me. That is an insult I had thought you were beyond using. I see your time amongst the whores of King’s Landing has coloured your language somewhat. Never fear though, I enjoy this little game too much to rat you out. After all I am not the one with the slain lives of innocents on my conscience.”

That last barb is one too many for Pycelle and he retorts. “At least I know where my loyalties lie Varys. What is it you people are so fond of saying? Red or black a dragon is still a dragon. It seems there are many dragons about now, the question is which one are you?” with that he walks past the eunuch and straight into his rooms, where he finds a note from Ser Lann Waters asking to meet. By the gods what is this now?


	23. A Council Of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great Council of 284 A.C. has been convened.

**3 rd Month of 284 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

After all the negotiating and the nervous tension that had come since finding Lyanna and her son, they were finally in King’s Landing. Not as the conquerors but instead to discuss the claims of both his own grandson Jonothor Targaryen and the oaf that was Robert Baratheon. The lords of the realm were all gathered here, in their splendour with many retainers and other such amusements. The throne room was packed with all the lords great, minor and small, the throne room was filled with banners of the various houses denoting where they should be sat, which it seemed had been denoted by where they had all been camped before being welcomed into the city. As it were Rickard and his allies were stationed near the doors of the throne room, specifically the right door, whilst Baratheon sat the Iron Throne with his gall and Kingsguard standing guard, a mimic of what Rickard’s grandson’s own Kingsguard were doing, both were staring at one another a contest of wills. Baratheon’s allies started with the lion of Lannister and went all the way down to the left door of the throne room. There was murmuring a plenty but soon enough it stopped when Grand Maester Pycelle that old dithering fool stood up.

He cleared his voice and spoke. “My lords and ladies, in the name of the Iron Throne, and Westeros as a whole, I thank you all for coming here today. This is the first Great Council in fifty years, and as such is a momentous event for all of us. In case you have all forgotten, we are here to decide which of the two claimants deserves to sit the Iron Throne, that was forged by Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons all those years ago. The two claimants are his grace King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, and Jonothor Targaryen the son of Prince Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna Stark. I now invite both claimants, to press their case for why they should be named king. For there to be a clear winner after all votes have been counted, the winner must have a clear seven vote lead. So with that in mind King Robert if you please.”

The hall was completely silent as Robert Baratheon stood up from the throne and said. “My lords and my ladies, thank you for coming. Whilst it is a shame to have to go through this farce of a council, when it is clear who the rightful king should be. During the rebellion, we fought to remove the Targaryens from the throne and from power, we succeeded in doing that the minute Rhaegar Targaryen died on the God’s Eye, for no matter what I think of him he was the only true hope the dynasty had of surviving and continuing. He is dead, his children are dead and his brother is truly the mad king’s son. We are also in a deep and long winter, I do not see the sense in appointing a child, no a babe, as king. You will want a man who has seen his own share of winters and knows how rule during them, not some babe who will never remember this. Rickard Stark is an oath breaker and a traitor, he swore vows to see me on the throne, and I called him family, this was to be our grand alliance, and yet the minute his daughter died, he stabbed me in the back and declared for a bastard child. Do you want such a man ruling through the king? I think not.”

Murmurs followed that speech as the man sat back down on the throne, Rickard though knew where to begin. He stood up and in what his wife, his Lyarra, called his lord’s voice said. “My lords and ladies, thank you once more for coming to King’s Landing to discuss this most important issue. Whilst I can see how some might see the rebellion as a way of removing the Targaryens from power, truly I was never one to decide as much. I fought to find my daughter and to gain justice for my son, who was murdered no matter what Aerys might have called it. When we joined Robert Baratheon, the man had already named himself king, and we went along with it, for not doing so would have soured the alliance and lessened my chances of achieving my aims. I had thought the man would make a good king, but seeing him after the sack of King’s Landing, my thoughts have changed enormously. A man who can so easily forget that innocents are exactly that because of whom they are wed to and whom their father is, I do not think should sit the throne. Robert Baratheon’s crown was won over the dead bodies of Princess Elia and her children. And the man revelled in their deaths, and would have done the same to my own grandson had he gotten his hands on him. He in fact sent a hired assassin after my grandson and tried to have him killed.” He pauses, as the hall gasps to see Ser Barristan turn round and throw his white cloak at the oaf’s feet before, striding from the throne to stand next to his sworn brothers, who look at him for a moment before welcoming him back into the fold. Rickard smiles somewhat at that and continues. “A knight such as Ser Barristan the Bold is disgusted with the king, and that should speak volumes for the man.  If you want a war mongerer and a butcher then choose the man who sits on that throne, if you want someone who will bring peace and stability and whose family knows this kingdom well, choose my grandson.”

More murmuring follows Rickard’s own statement, and when Pycelle stands up to speak the hall is growing louder and louder with excitement. “My lords and ladies, we have now heard from both the claimants. If there is anyone else who wishes to speak for either claimant please will you stand and speak now.”

The murmuring continues and then Lord Jon Arryn stands up, looking old, aged and haggard. “My lords and ladies, both claimants have put forward good and convincing arguments. All I can say to add to King Robert’s arguments, is that despite what Lord Rickard has said, the king is a good man. He is a man who knows honour and knows his duty to the realm and its people. He will do all he can to ensure that the realm continues to prosper and that the peace of this realm remains. Having a child on the throne will only cause more trouble, we have all heard of the dangers of the regency, let us not have that happen again.”

The chattering continued to grow, and then the flower stood up. “Arryn and Baratheon, are deluding themselves if they believe the realm will ever truly heal with Baratheon on the throne. The man is a condoner of child killing, everything that stands against chivalry, and honour. The man picked no bones about marrying Tywin Lannister’s daughter just moments after the lady Lyanna had died and news had reached the realm. Such a man shows he has no scruples and this news of him sending a hired assassin after the King Jonothor, shows he is a coward.”

Lords and ladies alike began whispering most fervently at this, Rickard smiled, the flower might not be the most politically savvy but he did know how to be dramatic. The oaf on the throne was glowering now, it was telling that everyone fell silent when Tywin Lannister stood up. “Fellow noblemen of Westeros, Robert Baratheon is a true man, a man of honour and a man who takes his oaths seriously. He stood by the Starks when it would have made more sense to turn of Eddard Stark or bend to Aerys. He stood by the Starks because he knew they were family with his betrothal to the Lady Lyanna. That Rickard Stark has turned cloak and betrayed him, is something I think is more telling of the pure opportunism behind Stark and his own motives than the king. The king did the politically sound move in marrying my daughter, who as you can see shall soon have a child and an heir for the king. This council must decide, do you want an oath breaker ruling, or a man who knows the value of an oath.”

Doran Martell stands up then and the room remains quiet, as they wait for what the Prince of Dorne has to say. “I will not give the flatteries the others have given. My sister and her children were brutally murdered so that, that man on the throne could sit his arse on it. They were innocent children who suffered for their father’s actions. I do not see how anyone could stand by to allow a man who condones child murder and the murder of an innocent woman, to be king. It makes no sense to me, and I know for a fact that my people will not stand for it either.”

The lords and ladies gathered begin making more noise chattering away quite animatedly, at the not so veiled reference to war that Prince Doran had just made. Interesting, a turn that he had not seen coming nonetheless Dorne will vote for Jonothor that he is sure of. Pycelle stands up then and asks. “Now is there anyone else who wishes to speak?”

Lord Yohn Royce, a fierce fighter and a loyal man stands up and speaks his voice booming off of the walls. “My lords and ladies, I have heard both arguments from the two claimants and their allies. I must admit, that I am thoroughly shocked at some of the revelations made. Stark broke his word, but only after his grandson was threatened, and we can speak of honour and duty, but at the end of the day that is all horse shit. The one true thing that matters is family, and the protection of it. For that reason I cannot stand by and allow a man such as Robert Baratheon sit the throne.” He walks away from Robert’s contingent and comes to sit in a vacant seat next to Rickard, Lords Corbray, Redfort, Upcliff and Lady Waynwood follow him to vacant seats. Rickard smiles, and Baratheon blusters on the throne.

Lord Bracken stands up then and speaks. “Robert Baratheon knows what it is to fight and to see your family die for something you believe in. He knows honour and he knows duty. I do not think these lords here do.” With that he walks over to where Jon Arryn and Tywin Lannister are sat, he nods his head at them and sits down. Lords Cox, Frey and Deddings follow him.

As the lords and ladies murmur at all of this, Rickard wonders what will come next. The answer comes in the form of Lord Guncer Sunglass, who stands and speaks. “Myself and my friends, have reached the conclusion that this issue, is one that only the gods can decide, and therefore we urge for there to be a trial by combat or trial by seven to settle the matter. Failing that we wish to remind the King on the throne that his own grandmother was a Targaryen and his hostilities towards them make him seem petty. With that said and done, we wish to remove ourselves from this council.”

The chorus of lords and ladies talking grows louder at this, and Pycelle looks not at the king but at Lannister and Arryn who both nod, Pycelle then says. “My lord, you and your friends may remain here in this hall. But when it comes to voting, you should remain seated.”

More talking occurs, and then the king stands, anger making his words sound slurred. “NED!” the man bellows. “NED! For god’s sake man, look at what is happening. You have made your point NED! I am sorry for what I have done, but I did it for Lya, for you, for Brandon. It was revenge and justice that saw those children killed. We can build the realm anew together. Please Ned, your place is by my side. My brother.”

Rickard looks at his son as do most everyone else in the hall, and his son is deathly silent for a long time. Then he stands and his voice is hard as iron when he responds. “Brother? Would a brother harm their fellow nephew if that were the case? You are not the man I thought you were Robert. You sent a hired assassin after my nephew and you tried to kill him. You broke any semblance of family bond with me when you did that. You would never allow my nephew to live, so long as you are king. I cannot allow that threat, for him and for Lya’s sake.”

Rickard has never felt quite so proud of his son as he does at that moment, and then they hear the Stag give a roar. “SO IT IS TRUE. YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME JUST AS YOUR FATHER AND SISTER DID. I WILL END THIS NOW!” the man charges down the throne, his anger carrying him, a hammer- by the gods where did that hammer come from- in his hands, charging towards whom it is not clear. Lords get up and move out of the way out of fear, the Kingsguard have their swords drawn and ready.

The man comes closer and closer, and then Mark Ryswell appears and there is the sound of the stag grunting as Ryswell’s fist hits his stomach. They all hear Ryswell as he says. “For man of your size and experience you are awfully slow Baratheon. But then again maybe that is why stags are always prey to Dragons and Wolves.”

There is a lot of laughter at that, as the Stag is slumped over, before members of his Kingsguard come to escort him back to the throne, where he sits down and waves them off. Clearly still winded and his ego bruised. Rickard stands up and says. “This is a clear example of why the man sat on the throne right now should not be given the chance to be king for long. Such irrational displays of anger will cloud his judgement and run this kingdom into the ground. Do we want another Aegon the unworthy?” there is a chorus of no and of course not from various lords.

Pycelle stands up then and his voice is stronger than it had been before. “My lords and ladies, we have now seen the actions of both claimants, we have heard their arguments. Let the voting begin, I would like too clearly state that those who wish to vote for a particular candidate must stand up when that candidate is mentioned, and those who wish to abstain must remain seated. And once more, a clear seven vote lead is needed for there to be a clear winner declared.” The man clears his throat, “Those who wish to vote for King Robert Baratheon please stand now.”

Rickard watches with interest as the lords from crownlands, stand up, one lord after another, he counts ten standing up from the crownlands most of them being seated over in Baratheon’s corner, one or two in his own. Lords from the Westerlands, every single lord on Robert’s side is standing up, following Tywin Lannister’s lead his iron eyes looking at them all, from the Narrow Sea Rickard counts one lord, Lord Adrian Bar Emmon alone amongst the tide, from the Stormlands, twenty six lords of the Stormlands stand for Baratheon amongst them Dondarrion, Cafferen, Buckler and Tarth, the notable thing is that House Swan is conspicuous in its absence from those standing. Baratheon of course is standing for himself. It is clear the Riverlords are torn, Rickard counts ten standing for Baratheon including Frey and Bracken. Lords of the Vale are torn as well it seems, thirteen for Baratheon Arryn and Belmore amongst them. None stand for the man from the north, and eleven lords he counts from the Reach led by House Florent and House Peake. Not a single house stands for the man from Dorne, he waits for a moment and then Pycelle after speaking with his fellow maesters speaks. “Votes for Robert Baratheon, one hundred and four.”

Some murmuring Baratheon looks confident, and then Pycelle speaks. “Those who wish to vote for Jonothor Targaryen please stand now.”

Rickard and the whole of the north stand as he knew they would.  All of Dorne stands as well which elicits some gasps of surprise, vengeance for Elia and her children hot on their minds, he will have to deliver now. Most lords from the Reach follow the flower’s example and stand for Jon, good, the man will keep to his end of the bargain it seems. None stand from the Westerlands, in the Stormlands, Connington of course stands for Jonothor, and surprisingly, House Swann do as well, as well as do house Caron, it seems Lord Durran kept true to his word. From the Vale, Lords Royce, Templeton, Waynwood, Upcliff, Redfort, Wydman and Corbray all stand for Jonothor. From the Riverlords, it seems Hoster has delivered on his promise, Blackwood and Whent leading the charge, if he gets it right they have just piped Robert by four votes in the riverlands. The crownlands is also somewhat similar though they lose out to Baratheon by one vote, and clearly win in the narrow sea region with eight votes.

Once all the counting is done, Rickard and the other lords wait with baited breath for the tally to be announced, Rickard saying a silent prayer, he does not know if they have enough for a clear victory or not. Pycelle stands and in his quavering voice says. “Votes for Jonothor Targaryen, one hundred and seven. Not enough for a clear win.”

The hall erupts into chaos at this, with various lords and ladies shouting various things, but Rickard has only eyes for Robert Baratheon, who stands and bellows for quiet. “I demand trial by combat,” the man roars. “I won this war in battle once, I will win it again.”


	24. A Council Of Man Part 2

**3 rd Month of 284 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Arthur Dayne**

The hall erupts into chaos at this, with various lords and ladies shouting various things, but Rickard has only eyes for Robert Baratheon, who stands and bellows for quiet. “I demand trial by combat,” the man roars. “I won this war in battle once, I will win it again.”

Arthur is somewhat taken aback by the man’s declaration, though when he thinks on it, it does make sense. The man is a warrior after all, Tywin Lannister ever the opportunist speaks then. “Your Grace, I am sure my son Ser Jaime would be more than happy to stand beside you and fight for you.”

Arthur looks at the man and then at Ser Jaime who looks completely stunned by this, their eyes meet briefly and then the boy he had knighted, stands forward and says quite clearly. “I am afraid not father. I have already broken one Kingsguard vow I shall not break another. It was to the Targaryens I swore myself to, not this child killer.” With that Ser Jaime removes his own white cloak and walks towards them.

As Tywin Lannister splutters, Arthur feels a sense of pride for the boy he knighted, and clasps his hand as he joins them. “Welcome home Jaime,” he says. “But why the change of heart?” The hall is in chaos just now, and as such they have to struggle to hear his response.

“I have grown tired of being a pawn for my father and sister, I want to do something by myself and I want to be a true knight.” The boy replies.

Arthur is about to respond, but then Ser Gerold speaks. “Such as killing the king Jaime? Was that in holding to your Kingsguard vows?”

Arthur knows his friend and lord commander is merely doing his duty, that he does not still think of Jaime as a traitor but still it grates to hear the question. Jaime however, seems to take it well. “Aerys was going to burn King’s Landing to the ground, you know as well as I do what he was and what he had become. They found the stores of wildfire where I told them they would be. I did what any knight would do and I killed him to protect everyone, no one needed to die for his insanity.”

“And Princess Elia and her children?” Ser Gerold asks.

Jaime looks torn at this and his voice is soft. “I did not know that would happen. I was naïve, and I pay for it every day. But I wish for a chance to make up for that now, I would swear to never take up arms against King Jonothor from this day till my last.” He says so looking at Lord Rickard and the woman carrying the king.

Lord Rickard nods and says. “Very well then, it would appear Pycelle wishes for the Council to be adjourned for now. Let us retire to the hall to discuss who shall fight the Stag.” And so that is what they do, most of the lords and ladies have already left the hall as has the stag, and when they arrive into an antechamber known as the Old Man’s Tomb, Stark speaks. “How the devil did Baratheon get his hammer into the hall? I specifically stated that there should be no weapons other than those of the Kingsguard present.”

They all ponder this and then Ser Barristan speaks. “It seems Tywin Lannister is not against breaking the rules. I believe it was him who suggested it. Baratheon has been corrupted into something more than what he was at the God’s Eye.”

Lord Rickard nods then and says. “Aye, I can see that. Still that is not the matter here, we must decide who fights the stag. I believe it should be I who fights him. I am the regent for my grandson, and it is I who brought this about.”

Arthur looks at his fellow Kingsguard, and is about to protest when Eddard Stark says. “But father, you must remain here to protect Jonothor. You are his grandfather and guardian and Lord of Winterfell. If you die then the cause falls. I shall fight Robert, I must do this.”

Lord Stark shakes his head. “No son, you must remain here as well. You would not be able to fight at your best against the man. No it must be me or one of the Kingsguard.”

Arthur and his sworn brothers look at one another and then Arthur speaks. “My lord, allow me the opportunity to defend the king. I failed Prince Rhaegar, but I shall not fail King Jonothor. I am confident that I can beat Robert Baratheon, he will be using his anger to fuel him, and whilst anger can sometimes be a good thing in a fight, in a situation such as this, it will be his downfall. I am sure I can be the better fighter.”

There is a moment’s silence, and Stark looks at him for a long time and then finally says. “Well if you are certain of your victory, I see no reason to prevent you from fighting. You shall be King Jonothor’s champion.”

Having reached a decision, they walk from the antechamber and enter the throne room. The Iron Throne, stands on its platform imposing as always, the room itself has been modified from the discussions in the morning. Chairs have been moved backwards, some have been removed, it is clear they are trying to form a ring around them. Something for the lords gathered to watch and to cheer at. Baratheon is stood in the middle of this ring, dressed head to toe in his armour, which glitters silver in the light, his stag antlered helm on his head. Arthur himself is dressed in his Kingsguard armour, and has been since the morning, something that could impede him, but considering the Baratheon is shaking with fury, it seems that this might not be such a big disadvantage. He dons his helm and walks forward to the middle of the ring, standing before the Baratheon, and waits. Pycelle’s voice comes from somewhere. “We are here for the Trial by Combat, declared by King Robert Baratheon and accepted by Lord Rickard Stark, regent for King Jonothor Targaryen, Lord Stark has chosen Ser Arthur Dayne as his champion. The rules are simple, the two competitors fight to the death, and should Ser Arthur die then King Robert will be acknowledged by all parties as the rightful King of Westeros, should King Robert die, King Jonothor Targaryen shall be acknowledged by all as rightful king of Westeros. Is this clear?” everyone nods and voices agreement. Pycelle speaks once more. “Then let us begin.”

There is silence at that, and Arthur and the stag circle one another, both watching and waiting for the other to make the first move. They circle one another, taking full view of the ring and the surroundings, they move around one another taking stock of where there is a weakness n the other’s armour or defence. The stag lunges first as Arthur thought he would, his hammer swinging at an angle that Arthur manages to block, sparks fly, and he manages to force the hammer off of his sword. He moves backward, tempting the stag to follow him, trying to tire him out. Baratheon lunges once more his hammer coming out in another angle, but his hammer misses Arthur once more. He can hear Baratheon curse, and as the man charges forward, Arthur dances towards the left side, whilst Robert lunges after him, Arthur continues dancing away from Baratheon taunting him by how often the Stag is missing him.

With Baratheon tiring out, Arthur decides to go on the offensive. He moves forward bringing Dawn up high and bringing it down low in a quick fluid motion, and Baratheon does not manage to bring his hammer into the defensive in time, and when Baratheon curses at the dent Arthur leaves in his armour, he does smile. Arthur dances back, and then dances forward once more, swinging his sword, attacking the weak spots, near his shoulders slashing away at the man, bringing dents and cuts aplenty to the man. Baratheon is struggling now, and Arthur exploits this completely, he swings and slashes, and more and more bruises and cuts begin appearing on the stag. Arthur senses he has the advantage, and he brings Dawn up in a high arch and when he brings it down he is surprised when Baratheon’s hammer blocks his sword. They are engaged in a duel of strength and when Baratheon shrugs Arthur’s sword off of his hammer, Arthur dances backwards drawing Baratheon towards him.

Baratheon follows him as Arthur knew he would, and this time it seems the man is intent on attack. Baratheon lunges forward, his hammer swinging at the angles he so favours, two hands on the handle, and Arthur finds himself on the back foot. Baratheon comes charging forward, his confidence clearly back, and the hammer comes battering into Arthur’s own armour, dents begin appearing in his own armour, and tiredness begins colouring his vision. His breathing is heavy and is echoing in his ears, Dawn is heavy in his hands, but still he pushes on. The Baratheon’s strength is quite something to behold even Arthur can acknowledge that, his hammer seems a part of his body, an extension of his arms. Arthur can see blood on the hammer and he wonders if perhaps that his own. Dawn and the man’s hammer clash once more, Dawn resting heavily on the hammer’s handle. Both men are exerting their strength, trying to force themselves onto the better half of the battle. Eventually the pull away and Arthur dances backward.

Baratheon is tired out by this point, so is Arthur, and yet they come together once more, Dawn vs the hammer, sparks begin flying off of the weapons as they come together. Both men are breathing heavily, and Arthur knows one way or another one of them will die now. Baratheon swings his hammer, Arthur ducks and thrusts his sword into Baratheon breaking through an already dented piece of breastplate before pulling Dawn out, and dancing backward. Blood is pouring from the man’s armour, now and Arthur senses blood. He moves forward just as Baratheon does, they meet in the middle of the ring, and sweat is pouring off of Arthur’s face and down his neck onto his armour, but still they meet and sword and hammer clash in the middle. Sparks begin flying, Baratheon with one hand on his hammer swings once more and Arthur manages to just about avoid the hammer as it comes close to his side. The dance continues, and Baratheon follows Arthur through the chaos that the ring has now become. The chairs have been disturbed, they are crashing into spectators now as Baratheon is firmly on the offensive now.

The usurper swings his hammer and connects with Dawn, they break apart and then Baratheon comes again this time connecting with Arthur’s armour, sparks fly and dents begin appearing, blood is also trickling down. They break apart, and this time Arthur begins following the usurper, he moves forward and using each piece of strength he has left inside of him he swings dawn in arcs, and cuts and dents Baratheon, until at one point they are locked in a contest of strength. Dawn is locked on the handle of Baratheon’s hammer, both men are pushing using their arms trying to force the other to break contact, and neither is willing to give, Arthur’s arms are shaking and he knows a second longer and he will not last. But surprisingly, it is not Dawn that drops to the ground it is Baratheon’s hammer, it is covered in blood and dirt, and Arthur takes one look at Baratheon to know the man is shocked. Arthur uses that shock to bring Dawn back from the grip and then thrusts it firmly into Baratheon’s chest, piercing through his armour and drawing blood. He pulls Dawn out from the man’s chest, and watches as the man falls to his knees, blood pooling forth from his armour on to the floor.

There is a shocked silence throughout the hall, Arthur himself is panting somewhat, tired from his exertions, and he swears he is not imagining it when he hears Baratheon scream. “Ned!” Before he slumps to the floor and dies.


	25. Young Lion

**3 rd Month of 284 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

The sight of Robert Baratheon’s body slumped on the floor of the throne room, was an image that Jaime was convinced he would never forget, the Demon of the God’s Eye, was dead. Gone slain by the Sword of the Morning, and Jaime felt relief coursing through his body. The man who was the biggest threat to Prince Rhaegar’s last surviving son was dead, gone, buried, and no more. Jaime knew that his father’s plans would be changing now evolving, no doubt Cersei would be horrified and terrified, she was no longer the Queen, but did she truly carry that oaf’s child? Had she truly been unfaithful to him? To them?

Men were coming to remove the man’s body from the floor of the throne room, and the lords and ladies gathered in the hall were talking at a gathering level of volume, and Jaime’s own head was beginning to pound. His dreams were being shattered over and over again, the dreams of the song and the valiant young knight, but he supposed seeing Arthur slay the brute of Storm’s End, and perhaps this was something that would be in a song in the future. He knew not, all he knew was that Pycelle was calling for a recess so that the body could be removed, and Jaime found himself walking out with his fellow Kingsguard, and as they came to the antechamber known as the Old Man’s Rooms. His fellow knights were looking at him then and it was the white bull, who spoke. “So tell me Ser Jaime, who will you side with now? Your father or the rightful king the true king?”

Jaime swallows and says. “I meant what I said before, I will not take up arms against King Jonothor. And I will not do another thing to counter act my Kingsguard vows, I am done trying to live up to what my family wants of me. I am my own man.” He gets down on one knee then and looks at the babe who is in his wet nurse’s arms and says. “I Jaime of the House Lannister, do hereby swear my dying allegiance to King Jonothor Targaryen, and promise to never take up arms against him, for the rest of my days.”

Lord Rickard, looks at him for a long moment and that moment is one of the tensest and nerve wracking ones he has ever had in his life. Eventually, the man says. “Very well then, you may stand Ser Jaime. Now we must plan to move on from this. Tywin will be working hard to either place Stannis Baratheon on the throne or put his grandson on the throne. Now tell me Ser Jaime do you know if your sister is with child?”

Jaime is somewhat taken aback by the question but then thinks hard and says. “I do not think she is with child, after all last I knew she had tried but failed to conceive.”

Lord Rickard nods and then says. “Very well, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell come with me, we must make our own discussions and plans. Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan remain with Jaime. Wylla come with me with the King.”

Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell nod and follow the regent and the king’s nurse maid, leaving Jaime with his two sworn brothers. There is silence between them that stretches for what seems an age and then eventually Jaime speaks. “I was amazed by the moves you used to beat the usurper. What made you hold on for so long?”

His sworn brother smiles somewhat. “Well, Jaime, when you are fighting for the kingdom and the king, you do tend to put all other thoughts out of your mind. Worries that we might have otherwise do not come into play. One must learn to clear one’s mind when fighting with such high stakes. The usurper did not do that and he paid the price for this. On another note, I must say I am very proud of you Jaime. Sticking for your beliefs in the face of such opposition would not have been easy. You are a true knight and have done the white of the Kingsguard proud.”

Jaime feels his chest puff out then. “Thank you Ser, I did what I thought any decent knight would do. For too long we sat in silence, I could not do so again.”

His mentor, nods and then turns to Ser Barristan and asks. “Ser Barristan what made you bend the knee to Robert, considering there were still Targaryens alive even though Rhaegar was dead.”

Ser Barristan seems unsure for a moment, and then says. “I did what I thought was right. Rhaegar was dead he was the hope we had all placed the dynasty and its future on. With Aerys still alive, and Robert still alive and not having shown his true colours, I had thought he would make a much better king. It is a decision I will regret to the end of my days.”

Ser Arthur looks at their fellow sworn brother, and then says. “Very well Barristan. I do not find issue with that, after all we all knew what Aerys was, and yet we did nothing. Were I in your position I do not know what I would have done.”

Barristan nods and then Jaime asks. “What do you think will happen now? Will Robert’s death have now ended all the threats to the king’s reign and crowning?”

His mentor seems to be considering this for a moment and then he says. “I believe the issue of Stannis Baratheon will need to be sorted out first. Once that is done, I believe then that the king’s place on the throne will be safe and sound.”

Arthur has just finished speaking when Lord Rickard and the other two Kingsguard return to them and tell them that they must now return to the main throne room.  The blood has been cleaned and the lords and ladies are seated and are murmuring amongst themselves. Pycelle speaks then. “The gods have spoken, Robert Baratheon is dead. Long Live King Jonothor Targaryen first of his name King of Westeros.” All the lords and ladies cheered at that, and then Lord Rickard takes his grandson from the wetnurse and with the King squirming in his arms babbling somewhat, Jaime sees the Lord Regent sit on the throne, and raising his hands somewhat for silence. It’s almost as if everyone can sense the power vibrating off of the regent for even the king stops his childish babbling and stares at his grandfather.

Rickard Stark speaks and his voice is strong and powerful. “My lords and ladies, I thank you all for coming here today to exercise a voice in choosing the king. I on behalf of King Jonothor do thank you.” There is some laughter as the king tries to imitate his grandfather. Once it has died down the regent speaks once more. “The council is binding as is the trial by combat, my grandson has been confirmed as King by the gods as well as by you, the lords and ladies of Westeros. Does anyone have any objections?”

Lord Arstan Cafferen speaks then. “What about Lord Stannis, by rules of inheritance he is now Robert’s heir and a claimant. Should we not see about him?”

There is some muted murmuring and Lord Rickard calm as can be turns to where Stannis Baratheon stands rigid on the left hand side of the throne and asks him. “Lord Stannis do you wish to press your claim?”

The man who steps forward has short black hair and piercing blue eyes and a hard jaw, nothing like his brother. He looks at where his brother fell and his words are curt. “No my lord. I do not wish to press my claim. In fact,” he says getting down on bended knee. “I hereby foreswear all Baratheon claim to the Iron Throne and do swear that my house will never raise arms against King Jonothor Targaryen, and do promise to be the King’s most faithful servant.”

There is some murmuring, and then the regent speaks. “Very well we accept your pledge of fealty you may rise. Now unless anyone else has any objections let us move on.” None voice any protests and Jaime can see his father calculating something or the other. Lord Rickard continues. “All those lords who sided with Robert Baratheon during the voting, if you are willing to bend the knee to the rightful king you shall be pardoned and allowed to return home with no further damage being done. Those who are unwilling to bend the knee, will state their reasons why.” Silence follows this statement and then the sounding of chairs being moved as lords come to stand before the throne, makes Jaime want to laugh but he does not, instead he remains straight faced and stands completely still and watches as what he thinks is nearly half the lords present get down on one knee and pledge their allegiance to the king.

Seemingly happy with this the regent calls forward the other lords who sided with Jon or who abstained and asks them to bend the knee, of to which they do. After that is complete there is more talk about things that hold no particular interest to Jaime, about healing the realm and tying all the lands back together once more. Doran and Oberyn Martell both speak for having Clegane and Lorch brought to justice, Stark says that it will be done with due diligence, and Jaime is somewhat surprised his father acquiesces as well. More turns and twists happen in this council but Jaime has long since stopped paying attention, and breathes a sigh of relief when the council finally does end.

Of course that relief is short lived where after taking dinner in White Sword Tower he is summoned to his father’s chambers where a family meeting it seems is about to take place. Cersei stands up when he enters and comes up to him and slaps him hard across the face. “Traitor,” she seethes. “You could have done more to aid my husband and us and yet you did nothing.”

Jaime says nothing but when his father speaks and his voice is calm, Jaime begins fearing for himself. “Cersei enough sit down and allow your brother the chance to do the same.”  Both Cersei and Jaime sit on opposite sides of the table, and do not look at one another as their father continues to speak. “Robert Baratheon is dead, that is said and done. There is no point in protesting a lost cause, it is gone and dusted. Stannis Baratheon is a man more likely to harm us than aid us. Jon Arryn will not support us anymore, he is too shocked to do anything. You are not with child are you Cersei?”

His sister seems to be silent for an awfully long time and then when she does respond her voice is somewhat distant. “I… I do not know father. I have not had my moon blood for the past moon or so. And was waiting to see if this continued, but now, now I am not sure.”

Jaime looks at his father then and sees a look of pure determination on his face. “You must drink moon tea Cersei. I will not lessen your chances of gaining a good match now Robert is dead. Remove any potential child and our house will be safe.” His sister begins to protest but a look from their father keeps quiet, and remains silent. Their father continues to speak. “There is plenty that must be done to ensure that our house does not fall from the pecking order. A new regime is in power and will try to distance itself from the rebellion. And we can play a key role in that. Jaime, your future must be discussed at a later point, but for now we must lessen the blow of your marriage to Robert, Cersei.”

“Well, father, plotting has not gotten you anywhere so far now has it? Perhaps actually being loyal to the king, will give house Lannister what it deserves.” Jaime responds.

There is silence in the room, and then Cersei laughs. “Oh Jaime, has King’s Landing truly taught you nothing? Plotting is essential to survival here, this is the only way to keep going in the game.”

Jaime’s father nods and says. “We must also plan for when the king is an adult. He will not remain a child forever. And when he realises there is more to King’s Landing than his grandfather’s word, and he will come looking for adventure. We must be prepared for when he does.”

After his father words Jaime begins wondering if he should warn his brothers in the Kingsguard about this, and as the meeting drags on he begins paying less and less attention to what is being said and more about what else he could do with his life. Eventually the meeting comes to an end, and Jaime finds himself walking from his father’s chambers back to White Sword Tower, his head still in his thoughts, wondering if perhaps he should ask to leave the Kingsguard, and return to the Rock, or not, when he bumps into someone. “My apologies.” He says. He looks at the person he has just bumped into and finds his breath taken away, by the haunting violet eyes and the lush brown hair.

“No worries Ser Jaime. We both did not see one another.” The Lady Ashara says before she walks past him.

His heart is hammering as he watches her leave, has she always been so beautiful?


	26. The Old Wolf

**3rd Month of 284 A.C. King's Landing**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

They had come close, very close to losing the council. Something that had set his heart to thumping, something he had not thought would happen a loss to the Baratheons would have been something that would have been unbearable. As it was when Arthur Dayne had killed Baratheon, he had breathed a sigh of relief and had come very close to laughing out loud, seeing his son's face though had stopped him from doing so. But by the gods it was something of a relief, not having to worry about whether or not they were going to end up as heads on spikes. Now he could breathe somewhat, and move onto the next concern he had.

That very concern was sat opposite him in his room, Tywin Lannister the sly devil, was now trying to ingratiate himself into the new regime. Rickard had to give it to the man, he was clever and was someone whom Rickard wanted on his side. "So Lord Tywin, it would seem that your plans have not gone according to how you wished them. Where do you intend to go from here?"

The man looks at him for a long moment and then says. "I would like to be a part of things here in King's Landing. House Lannister has a lot to offer the king and the new regime. The matter with Robert Baratheon was pure prudence as I am sure you can understand. We were late to the rebellion and needed to show our loyalty. But when it comes down to it, things must move on."

"I agree completely my lord. I would like to have the backing of House Lannister and the Westerlands moving forward. It is not something I need, but rather something that could go a long way to healing the scars of the rebellion. Of course, if we are to be allies, there are certain things that need to be done. For instance, Gregor Clegane and Armory Lorch must be handed over to the Martells in order to satisfy some of their demands. Are you willing to part with two of your dogs for this?" Rickard responds.

Lannister shows just how practical a man he is by saying. "I do agree my lord regent. After all their acts were beyond what I had asked them to do and they must be brought to justice. I will give the order for them to stand down and have them handed over to the Kingsguard at the earliest possible chance."

Rickard nods and then says. "Now the matter of your daughter. She was married to Robert Baratheon for quite some time. Is she with child, or is there any risk of her showing in the next few moons?"

The man is silent for a moment and then says. "I have spoken with her, and I believe her when she says she is not with child. I shall remove her from court to ensure that she does not continue to cause problems."

"I thank you for that reassurance my lord. Now the removal of Clegane and Lorch and the handing them over to the Dornish are my two terms of this alliance. I imagine that you, yourself have conditions you would like to have met. I would hear them now." Rickard says.

The lord considers this and then responds. "I have two conditions to giving my unconditional support to this alliance. One I wish for my son Ser Jaime to be released from the Kingsguard, and to be restored as heir to Casterly Rock, he is a man who was forced to join the Kingsguard by a mad king, and as such repaid that sort of trust with treason, though it has benefitted the realm do you truly wish for such a man to remain on the Kingsguard?" Rickard knew what the man was doing, and he allowed for it to seem as if he was being affected, he nodded for the man to continue. "Secondly, I wish to be named hand. I served as hand for twenty years and brought peace and prosperity to the realm, ensuring things did not grow too out of hand even when Aerys began growing more and more erratic. I do believe the two of us would make a powerful alliance."

Rickard considers this as if it is something that he needs deep thought over, but in reality he had already made up his mind. "If I do accept these two terms, I want full access to the spy network I know you have here in King's Landing, and I want the full obedience of the Westerlands. Furthermore, I want us to work as allies to ensure my grandson sits the throne till he is old and grey."

The lion of the Rock, considers this a long time and then finally says. "That seems reasonable to me. It looks as though we have an alliance." Both men stand up and shake hands, sealing the alliance, Rickard knows that Martyn will have been listening and would have noted down all that was said and agreed on. Tywin gets up and leaves and Rickard prepares for bed knowing full well that all is well and good for now, but the game goes on.

That night as he dreams, he sees the things of his nightmares, the things that tormented him as a youth. Visions of dead things in the water, their eyes blue as ice, their breath as cold as the wind at the wall. Crows fought these dead things and fell before them, and the darkness spread across the land. The wolves are howling, the dragons are roaring, but through it all there is only darkness and ice, until the flames come and the wyvern and the hydra come dancing through the darkness, and a light shows, until it turns in on itself and they are all dancing to death's tune. He knows not what this is, but when a sense of despair begins to envelope him he hears a pipe on the wind, a haunting tune, a sad tune, an angry tune, and playing the tune, is a being with the body of a man, and the head of a goat. It looks at him and makes to speak, but then a larger being comes and the vision blurs, but he hears howling and mewling, and the sound of a being long asleep waking.

Rickard wakes up with a start, sweat covering his pillow and his skin. He stands up and splashes his face with water from the basin, the sun is high in the sky, and King's Landing is active. He calls for one of the servants to make a bath, and once that is done he spends a long time washing himself trying to get rid of the thoughts of darkness and death that have plagued him since he was a child. And that beast that keeps plaguing his dreams as well, by the gods he had thought them gone, his father had said they were gone, but then what did his father know, for Edwyle Stark was a mad man. He shakes his head emerges from the bath and gets changed, he has a long day ahead of him and he knows that it must be sorted with a clear head.

The first duty he has to deal with is meeting with his allies to discuss the forming of the Regency Council. Something that was a matter of grave importance considering how drastic and bad the only other regency council had been for King Aegon the Dragonbane. His main allies meeting were Lord Simon Staunton returned and in good health, Lord Mace Tyrell, Prince Doran Martell, Ser Gerold Hightower and finally Lord Hoster Tully. Rickard greeted each man and then said. "Good morning my lords, I thank you all for coming. We have one thing that must be discussed and that is the forming of the regency council. As the last regency council that was formed ended in such disaster we must ensure that this one does not. For the next fifteen years, we shall be ruling in the name of my grandson King Jonothor Targaryen and as such we must rule wisely and justly. I would hear your thoughts."

Ser Gerold speaks then. "I agree with you my lord. We all know that the two places that are sorted on the council are of course the Lord Regent and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. These two places are going to remain intact and present that is going to be accepted. The other positions are up for grabs though, and I do believe that having a council that is more representative of each of the seven kingdoms would do the King a world of good."

Lord Hoster speaks then. "This is good, I think that having seven representatives from each of the regions would be good. Though of course there is the matter of the Ironborn, who were notably absent from the council and have no responded to any correspondence for some time. There is a man who has been dying to speak with you my lord regent, since the council began."

Rickard looks at Hoster and merely says. "Then once this meeting is done, I shall meet with him. Now let us move to the positions, there are the positions of hand of the king, master of laws, master of coin, master of ships, master of whispers and Grand Maester all up available, though of course the citadel will decide who the new Grand Maester shall be considering what unfortunately befell Pycelle. Now personally, I believe that for master of coin someone such as Lord Wyman Manderly would be a good master of coin, as he has experience dealing in matters of coin and trade, and is unfailingly loyal to the King and would ensure the best deals for the crown and the realm."

There is some murmuring there and then Tyrell speaks. "Whilst I can see the sense in having Lord Manderly as master of coin, some might wonder if he was not simply your lackey my lord regent. After all, the Manderlys have been unfailingly loyal to the Starks for thousands of years. Someone of a more impartial note would be good. I would suggest my own goodfather Lord Leyton Hightower, as head of Oldtown he knows customs and finance like the back of his hand."

Silence and then Prince Doran speaks. "Whilst Hightower is someone that could do a good job, considering that the Hightowers themselves have perhaps not had the best financial fortune in recent times with the rebellion and all, it might be wiser to go with Lord Wyman. A man who holds frugality to his heart. My vote is for Lord Wyman."

Lord Simon speaks then. "I agree with Prince Doran, Lord Wyman would make an excellent master of coin and he is here now and can take up duties straight away. I vote for Lord Wyman."

Rickard looks at Hoster who merely says. "I know Lord Wyman quite well, and believe he would also make a fine master of coin. I too vote for Lord Wyman Manderly." Three votes to one, all look to Ser Gerold now.

"My nephew is many things but I do believe he would be better suited to his books and scrolls in Oldtown than here in the capital. I vote for Lord Wyman Manderly as well." Ser Gerold says.

With the matter of master of coin sorted, Rickard then turns his attention to master of laws. "Now this is an interesting position, reforms and reviews of the laws of the kingdom is going to be an important position with all that is planned during this regime. I would go with a man who has much experience and was someone who wished for reform during Aerys reign, and whom I believe would do the job good. Lord Simon Staunton."

Simon looks somewhat happy and shocked by this decision, but really Rickard needs someone who he knows will kiss his boots on the council, for it will be hard enough with what is to come soon. Tyrell of course seems somewhat unhappy. "I see why Lord Simon could be a good choice, yet he was on the mad king's council and did little. I am willing to engage in reform and have the power and the savvy to back it up."

There is silence and then Hightower speaks up. "I believe reform is something that needs an able hand and experience, and Simon Staunton has that in abundance. I vote for Simon Staunton for master of laws."

Rickard sees Tyrell begin to flounder, and when they look at Hoster and Doran, both men to be deep in thought. Hoster is the only other person who votes for Tyrell saying. "The Reach is crucial to this alliance I believe having Lord Tyrell as master of laws is important to ensuring we are on a sure footing."

Martell though goes against Tyrell and merely says. "Lord Staunton you have my vote."

So far two members Rickard has wanted on the council are on the council, master of coin Wyman Manderly, master of laws Simon Staunton. Now the next position is something that it seems all are agreed on Paxter Redwyne as master of ships, a good man experienced and someone whom Rickard knows he has leverage over. Velaryon's own time will come in due course. Especially if Redwyne continues to play to the tune Rickard has set him to.

Now the final two positions that will most definitely be open to contention, he decides to ask about Varys. "Now has anyone seen the master of whispers since the council began?"

Staunton speaks. "I know he was present during the council was in its initial stages, but I have not seen him since Baratheon died. Nor have any of my former contacts here. It seems he has just vanished."

Prince Doran speaks then. "I have not seen him since he came to me speaking of how there was something of interest to me and my brother beyond the narrow sea. And how we would get our chances for revenge the old way rather than following you my lord regent. I told him no and have since not seen or heard from him."

Rickard is intrigued by this but before he can say anything Hightower speaks. "Varys is gone, and that is for good. The rot in King Aerys reign, began with him. If he is gone, then I say good riddance."

Some murmurs of agreement, and then Rickard speaks. "So, shall we all say we are in agreement that Prince Oberyn would make the perfect master of whispers to counter act Varys. If we do assume the man has returned to Essos."

All present say "Yes."

On to the most contentious issue, "Whom to name hand though. A regent needs a hand, a good strong hand and so far there are only two people I can think of Tywin Lannister and yourself my lord Hoster."

Silence and then Hoster says. "I would be grateful for the honour, but seeing the lion cowed between your jaws is something that I am most fascinated to observe. I will gladly wait my turn."

Ser Gerold speaks then. "Lord Tywin would make a good hand, he did good work during Aerys reign. And as Lord Hoster has said, there will be a time for his power to go and this is it."

Prince Doran speaks then. "I wonder, if this is not part of some deal, give the Kingslayer back and name Tywin hand in return for his support to prevent any trouble. Is the man handing over Lorch and Clegane?"

Rickard nods and says. "Yes he is my prince. And I promise you that soon your chance will come for true justice. And when it does I will not stand in your way."

Silence as they all wait for the man to speak it seems as though he is weighing every thought in his mind and when the Prince does finally speak it seems a heavy weight as been lifted off his shoulders. "Very well, Tywin Lannister shall be hand, but I will want his head one day, and soon that day will come."

Rickard nods, and then says. "Very well then my lords, I believe that settles it then. Tywin Lannister is hand of the king, Wyman Manderly is master of coin, Simon Staunton you are master of laws, Paxter Redwyne is master of ships, master of whispers is Prince Oberyn, and grand maester shall be settled by the citadel. Martyn I want the respective lords to know of their appointment and that they shall be attending a council meeting on the morrow." His faithful steward bows and leaves.

Once that is done, he calls for Hoster to bring the man from the islands in. The man who comes in, is identified as Tristan Farwynd, the lord of Sealskin Point. The man speaks first once introductions have been made. "My lords, I urge you to be diligent, I came to Seagard in the hopes of trying to warn you all of the threat presented by Balon Greyjoy. His father was one for peace but he is a war monger and will want more land than they have right now. My own house was wiped out for protesting against this course of action. They are looking west for land, and I urge you all to unite."

There is silence and then Mace Tyrell speaks. "The Iron Islands would never dare to attack the mainland's, they have not the fleet to do so."

Farwynd speaks then and says. "They took no part in the rebellion because they were building up their fleet. Balon Greyjoy has some 100 war ships in his fleet known as the Iron Fleet. Devils they are and they are coming I warn you."

Tyrell is about to reply, when the door enters and Martyn Cassel comes in carrying a letter. "My lord, word from Lannisport, the Ironborn are on the move, they have sacked Fair Isle."


	27. White Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The White Bull and his thoughts.

**4 th Month of 284 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Gerold Hightower**

_Rest easy little one, for soon enough the burden of the crown will be on your shoulders._ That was what Ser Gerold Hightower Lord Commander of the Kingsguard thought as he looked down at the king who was growing fast, he had already seen his first name day, a raucous celebration had been held in the Red Keep and in King’s Landing. And the lords and ladies who were still present in the capital had all celebrate, Gerold and his sworn brothers had kept a look out as they always did and ensured there was nothing to suspicious. There had been no further attempts on the king’s life and as such things were looking good, but one could never be too weary. As for the child in the cradle before him, Gerold had high hopes for King Jonothor. He was a babe now, but he was the son of two ancient bloodlines that had produced noble kings and lords alike as well as the odd mad man. Gerold was determined that this time the king would not turn out how Aerys had, there would be no decline into madness, the king would be everything a king should be, just, noble and chivalric. There would be no wars to tear the dynasty apart.

He continued to stand guard for sometime, as the king gurgled and giggled at him and the faces the king’s wetnurse Wylla was pulling, before he eventually fell asleep. Once the king was confirmed as asleep, Gerold was relieved of his duty by his fellow sworn brother Ser Barristan as well as by two northern guards named Torrhen Umber and Theo Wull. Good men all of them and he knew they would keep the king safe. Ser Oswell was guarding Prince Viserys in his chambers as he slept, and Princess Daenerys would be watched over by Ser Jaime soon enough. That the king’s aunt and uncle had finally arrived from Dragonstone was a source of much relief to Gerold, as he had been worried as to what would happen to them. He walked from the nursery to the rooms where the Lord Regent was stationed knocked and was allowed to enter. Once offered a seat, the Lord Regent spoke. “I am sure you know why you are here Ser Gerold. As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard it falls to you to formally decide who is named to the Kingsguard, I as lord regent can approve the appointments. Now whom do you have in mind?”

Gerold considers this for a moment and then responds. “I have two names in particular that I think could be very useful in the Kingsguard. Ser Mark Ryswell, a man from the north, but a man who has shown he has courage and is not afraid to stand up for what he believes in. that is what I believe a true knight should be. I recommend him highly for the Kingsguard. A second man is Ser Willam Darry, Ser Willam has shown himself to be incredibly loyal to the King and the royal family. I know for a fact that he would take a sword or an arrow for the royal family if asked.”

The lord regent seems to take his proposals into serious consideration. “Aye Mark is a good man, honest and true. All good qualities to have in a knight of the Kingsguard, furthermore he is someone with good experience and with the loss of the members during the rebellion this is most definitely someone who would fill the void well. Ser Willam, whilst I can see why he would be suggested, he is ageing and shall not last very long I worry with the duties the Kingsguard shall have to perform. If he were younger perhaps, but not now. Not with there being threats still lingering.”

Gerold nods and then asks. “Who would you suggest if not Ser Willam?”

The Lord Regent is silent for a long time as he ponders this matter, but if Gerold knows the man, then he has already somewhat decided. “I believe Ser Jon Redfort could well make a good choice. He is also a proven warrior, is young and can be moulded into what the Kingsguard should stand for. Furthermore it would be a good way to reward his house and father for siding with King Jonothor.”

Gerold considers this and says. “Jon Redfort is a good choice my lord. I have seen him in the practice yards and he is good with a sword, very good. In fact I do not think I have seen anyone with such promise since Ser Arthur. Though I do wonder about naming him to the Kingsguard as a reward for his father’s service. If anything, the Kingsguard must retain its neutrality and it must be made up of knights solely loyal to the royal family.”

“So are you suggesting that Ser Jon not make it to the Kingsguard then? I disagree with you on that front, the Kingsguard has long been used as a political tool, look at Ser Jaime’s appointment, look even at yours, used to gather support for King Aegon’s reforms. But in essence I can see what you are saying, still, Redfort is an ambitious man having his son in the Kingsguard will sate those ambitions somewhat and also help to cool the fires with the Vale.” The lord regent responds.

Gerold nods and then says. “What of Ser Jaime, if I know Lord Tywin correctly you would have had to agree to release the lad from the Kingsguard in return for the man’s support.”

“Aye, indeed I did. Ser Jaime with your consent will be freed from his vows and will be allowed to take up position as heir of the Rock once more.” Lord Stark responded.

Gerold ponders this before responding. “I can see the benefits of allowing the lad to go, though once a Kingsguard swears their vows they are in for life. Only death can free them of their vows.”

“Yes the vows are important and for life, yet Ser Jaime did break one vow when he killed his king. He has sworn another vow to compensate for that, but what is there to say he won’t break that vow as well. After all Lannisters are notably treacherous.” The lord regent responds.

Gerold feels torn as he considers this argument, it makes sense, the lad though good, has broken his vows once before, and the promise not to break them again could have for all Gerold know it could have been a ruse orchestrated by him and his father. He ponders this and turns it over and over in his head before finally sighing and saying. “Very well, I agree to allow Ser Jaime to leave the Kingsguard, but this cannot set a precedent.”

The Lord Regent nods. “Indeed, that is very true. With Ser Jaime leaving the Kingsguard we shall need to decide on another knight to take his place. There is Ser Jon Connington who is now of course Lord of Griffin’s Roost, though I would prefer he did not join the Kingsguard as having a loyalist lord in the Stormlands will always be useful. There is Ser Addam Osgrey son of Lord Gerold Osgrey, though of course one might think there is too much preference to the Reach.”

Gerold nods along, and then says. “Ser Rolland Storm could well make a good choice my lord. He is a fierce fighter, has shown himself to be notably loyal and would ensure that House Caron did definitely remain onside. And furthermore no Stormlords could truly complain.”

The regent considers this. “A bastard in the Kingsguard, unusual but it has been done before. I see no reason why it could not be done again. Very well Ser Rolland it is then.”

Both men happy with this decision, get up shake hands and Ser Gerold turns and leaves for his own room in White Sword Tower, where he spends the night sleeping easily, for the first time in a long while. He wakes just as the sun is rising to relieve Ser Barristan of his duty in guarding the king and remains with the king for some time until Ser Oswell comes to relieve him of his own duty. His morning meal has been had and by the time he arrives in the throne room for court, he is much more awake then he was at the beginning of his morning guard. He and Ser Jaime stand at the base of the throne guarding it, Gerold does a quick calculation in his head and he knows that with Barristan resting and Ser Oswell guarding the King and the Princess, Ser Arthur will be guarding Prince Viserys. Satisfied with that he refocuses his attention to the events at hand. The lords and ladies are filling in and are talking quite excitedly, Lord Rickard is already sat on the throne, but he is allowing all to somewhat shake the tiredness from their eyes and voices, and then at a sign Gerold calls for quiet and the hall does fall quiet, and still after all these years he is amazed at just how powerful that makes him feel.

The proceedings of court are somewhat dull, usual affairs of land and disputes and various lords trying to press their own claims on things that truly should be of no concern to them. The lord regent handles these issues with effectiveness that has not been seen in King’s Landing since Lord Tywin ruled as hand, and as such the issues begin to thin considerably. Before the issues of the Greyjoys are brought forward, the announcements are made for the regency council and there is some muttering and mumbling about some of these choices especially seeing Prince Oberyn and Tywin Lannister serving on the same council. Once that announcement has been made news comes from the westerlands about the Ironborn and what is being done about them. It appears the attack on Fair Isle and its sack was led by Lord Donnor Saltcliffe, and there are concerns that the raiding will span to other coastal areas on the Westerlands. The regent orders for a letter to be sent to Pyke demanding answers, and also tells the hand to return with his men to the Westerlands to prepare for defence after today has finished. There is murmuring at all of this, and Gerold suspects there is something more at play here, but as usual keeps his mouth quiet.

Eventually, the Lord Regent speaks. “Now, before court is dismissed for the day, there is one more matter that is quite pressing that must be dealt with. Ser Gerold if you please?”

Gerold stood forward and said. “I, Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, after consultations with the lord regent have decided that Ser Mark Ryswell and Ser Jon Redfort shall be the new members of the Kingsguard. If they could come forward and bow before the throne.” Both men do so with applause ringing through the hall, though it is especially loud for Ser Mark, none have forgotten his defiance of Robert Baratheon. Once the applause has died down and both knights have gone back to their places Gerold speaks once more. “The Kingsguard, is traditionally of seven places, one for each element of the seven who is one. And at present this is the case, however, there is one member who has shown himself above and beyond the call of duty, but in showing so broke a most sacred oath, and for that he must remove himself from the Kingsguard. Ser Jaime please step forward.”

Ser Jaime steps forward and then bows before the throne as they had told him to. There are some shocked gasps in the throne room, and Ser Jaime himself still can’t quite believe it is happening. Still Gerold presses on. “Ser Jaime, you have admitted to slaying King Aerys, breaking your oaths to him and as a knight of the Kingsguard. Though it was done as a noble act to save the city of King’s Landing from burning under the madness of King Aerys and the wildfire he so favoured. Still an oath is an oath, and as such one must pay the consequence. As the action and the oath somewhat conflict, you shall not join the Night’s Watch, but you shall no longer be a member of the Kingsguard. Ser Jaime, I under the authority of King Jonothor Targaryen as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard do hereby dismiss you from the Kingsguard, with honour and prestige befitting a true knight.”

There is a lot of murmuring at this and Ser Jaime is silent still kneeling. But then he does speak. “I thank you for giving me this chance at a new future Ser Gerold and Lord Regent Stark. I shall live up to the vows I swore before you as heir to the Rock.” The man stands unclasps his white cloak and hands it to Gerold before walking out of the hall to White Sword Tower.

Following the closing of the doors of the throne room Gerold speaks once more. “Ser Rolland Storm, come forward and accept your new position as a knight of the Kingsguard.” The man comes forward and bows and then stands moves back to his place.

The Lord Regent calls an end to court there and then with the lords and ladies all whispering. Gerold remains in the throne room guarding the Lord Regent, as he remains on the Iron Throne in thought. Gerold knows that Jaime will be missed in the Kingsguard, a promising talent, but sometimes the game comes to interrupt all of them especially those who foreswear it. Once the Lord Regents gets up off the throne and walks down the stairs Gerold moves aside and then follows him back to the man’s own chambers. Where he stands guard outside.

The next few days are quite chaotic as preparations are made for the swearing in of the new sworn brothers of the Kingsguard, as well as seeing Jaime off from White Sword Tower and back to his father’s part of the castle. Gerold does not say much to his former sworn brother apart from to wish him well in whatever he so does. After that, he spends most of his time ensuring everything is done according to plan in the Great Sept and when the day does come, all three knights come forward to swear their vows and take their vigil, and Gerold has a feeling, a hope that perhaps this could be the start of something new for the Kingsguard. A chance to recover from the darkness of Aerys reign and into the new regime of King Jonothor, a golden age for the kingdoms.

Three new sworn brothers join Gerold and his fellow sworn brothers Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell in White Sword Tower two days after the ceremony, their names Ser Mark Ryswell- the dark stallion-, Ser Jon Redfort and Ser Rolland Storm. Gerold begins the meeting with the customary question. “Greetings my fellow sworn brothers, now that we are all here, I must ask who guards the king?”

Ser Mark responded. “My cousin Rickard Ryswell and Lord Umber’s brother Torrhen Umber, Lord Commander.”

Gerold nods and then says. “Will they defend them to the best of their ability and put his life above their own?”

Ser Mark nods and says. “They will Lord Commander.”

Gerold then looks to Ser Oswell and asks. “Who guards Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys?”

Ser Oswell unusually straight faced today responds. “Ser Laenor Velaryon and Ser Jon Waters guard Prince Viserys. Whilst Lord Raymun Darry and Ser Argus Rivers guard Princess Daenerys.”

Gerold nods and then asks them all to sit. Once they are all seated he takes a deep breath and then says. “This meeting has been called to discuss the future course of the Kingsguard. We learnt during Aerys reign that there are limits to what we can do as knights and as bodyguards. We did things that I am sure none of us are proud of in the name of the king, things that came directly into conflict with our vows. We lost many good men and three fellow sworn brothers because of the actions of the King we served. Such a thing cannot happen again, losing three brothers to the actions of a mad man cannot happen ever again. it is time we discussed what course we wish to take. Complete obedience to the point we become nothing more than hired swords, or obedience to the point where we avoid becoming hired swords. The Kingsguard was and is a position of high honour, we represent the best of chivalry in Westeros, and we must work to keep that title and honour.”

There is silence and then Ser Arthur speaks. “I believe that complete obedience is something that should be looked at with deep questions when the King is a child, as he is at present. Commands given by the king, I believe need to be looked at in comparison with the vows we swore as knights. We must defend the weak and the innocent, under Aerys we did not do this. As the king is a child at present I do not think that this will come into question. But when the king is not a child, then it shall become a very strong issue. I believe if the king asks us to do something that does not stay true to our knightly vows we must bring the issue to the Lord Commander.”

Silence follows this and then Oswell speaks. “Following on from Arthur’s point, I believe that having a close relationship with the king, especially as the king is a child at present is something that must be worked on and developed. Only then, I believe will we truly be able to judge the level of command the King has given us. This is something that I feel is where we went wrong with Aerys, we did not try to establish a relationship with him, and so we became hired swords. And under Prince Rhaegar as well.”

Barristan speaks up then. “I disagree with this. We are Kingsguard, it is our duty to obey. We are not supposed to question the king’s decision. We are supposed to be able to trust the king. With Aerys, he was the exception to the rule, and not the set tradition. Just because one king was mad, and ordered atrocities does not mean other kings, particular King Jonothor will as well.”

Ser Rolland speaks then. “I agree with Ser Barristan. We are knights of the Kingsguard, we are the ones who are supposed to ensure the king’s peace and ensure his protection as well as that of the royal family. That is our duty, nothing more nothing less.”

Arthur speaks then. “I agree that we must do our duty and protect the king and ensure he is safe and protected. But we must also ensure that the king does not do anything that brings himself into harm or others into harm. Having a good personal relationship with the king is a good way to ensure that the king does not do something or ask us to do something that would lead us down the slope that brought us to Aerys reign.”

There is some more backwards and forwards arguing between Arthur and Barristan, though Gerold notes that Ryswell and Redfort keep quiet, observing everything as par for course. Eventually Gerold asks for quiet and says. “This is of course a divisive issue. But we must all agree that as the king is an infant we have the perfect chance to help raise and mould him so that we never again get a King Aerys the Mad.” There are nods of agreement from all other members and then he continues. “Also, speak now if you have any objections to what I say next. If the king asks you to do something and it fits within your beliefs and vows, then do it. But if he asks you to do something that goes against those beliefs and vows, come to me first. Do not blindly follow the king, for he is young still and is learning and will be learning for some time.”

His fellow sworn brothers all voice their agreement with this and when they depart the white sword tower for their respective posts, Gerold feels somewhat lighter. Perhaps there is a bright light at the end of this tunnel after all.


	28. A Young Lion Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happens at roughly same time as Gerold's pov.

**4 th Month of 284 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

He was no longer a member of the Kingsguard, that thought and that thought alone was something that made him think long and hard about his life. He had just turned eighteen, and as such it felt as if his whole life had come and gone in a blink of an eye. For as long as he could remember, all he had ever wanted to be was a knight of the Kingsguard, he had never really paid attention to his father’s lessons about their bannermen, never really cared about playing the game. All he had wanted to do was become good enough to fight with his sword, and earn a place in the Kingsguard. When that day had come, he had thought his dreams had been achieved he would be a knight of a song, and Cersei would be his lady, but then Cersei was not there to see him join the Kingsguard nor did she come to King’s Landing afterward, and Jaime was left to deal with the sights of a mad man in power and deal with his own torn conscience. Killing Aerys had been a relief, and when Baratheon had come to the throne he had wondered if perhaps this would be a new start. But no, Baratheon was just as blood thirsty as Aerys and there was more war on the horizon until the Great Council. Then Jonothor Targaryen, Rhaegar’s last living son had won and Jaime had felt everything within him sag. He could not continue as a Kingsguard knight, he did not know if he had it in him to continue, he wanted to return home. That was why he had not protested quite as vigorously as he might have done when Ser Gerold had told him the news, his dreams had been shattered and he wanted away from King’s Landing.

Of course he had had his suspicions all along about who it was who had truly seen to it that he had been released from his vows. His father had hinted as much when they had last spoken, and now that he was alone with the man he figured he might as well ask about that. “So, was it you who ensured Lord Rickard and Ser Gerold saw fit to release me from my vows father? And if so what did you offer them in return?”

His father never one to take offence merely said. “At least you are not completely naïve. Yes I did ask Stark and Hightower to have you released from the Kingsguard. You are my heir and always have been, a Lannister does not serve anyone as a lesser, let alone as a body guard. The Targaryens learnt that to their peril during the rebellion, and now Stark is seeking to prevent that from happening again. I will be hand, and you shall be my heir. And the dynasty will be secure.”

“But how will this go about then father? After all there is still the issue of Cersei hanging over your head, with the Ironborn causing trouble in the Westerlands it is not as if we can exactly send her back home now. She will need to remain in King’s Landing, and will only serve as a reminder of what happened before King Jonothor won the Great Council. Her being here will only further taint our House.” Jaime responded.

His father nearly smiled then and Jaime thought his heart would stop. “I see you have learnt something of your time here. Well, Cersei shall not be remaining here. When we ride for the west she shall be coming with us, but she shall remain in Silver Hill and stay there until the fighting is done. If all goes according to plan the fighting will not last very long. No doubt Greyjoy is the one behind this, and he shall learn to fear the lions.”

Jaime smirks somewhat. “It is interesting you say that father. After all, the new regime still looks on House Lannister with a great deal of suspicion. It is very possible that Greyjoy if indeed he is the one who ordered the raiding, then it shows that House Lannister is not feared at all in the realm. It seems we have become tame again.”

His father’s face remains a straight mask, but Jaime wonders if that is anger he sees there. “The Greyjoys if it is them who started the raiding will soon learn what it is to fear lions. Especially when Ser Lucion breaks down their fleet and finishes off what Lord Tybolt had started during Dagon Greyjoy’s rebellion. Once they are sorted and finished, I shall return to King’s Landing to begin working on the regent and his grandson. And you, you shall remain in the Rock and hold it for me, and marry.”

Though he knew this matter would have to come up, but he did not expect it to come up this soon. “Marry? Who would you have me marry father?”

Tywin Lannister could win a prize at a fare, for how cold his stare is. “You shall marry whomever I tell you to wed Jaime. But there are some eligible ladies around. Jeyne Farman for one that would ensure that Lord Farman remains loyal, there is also Alysanne Lefford which would prevent Lefford from getting any ideas. Finally there is Mariah Banefort, which would ensure the Baneforts continue leaving themselves out of our affairs.”

Jaime considers these options, Farman is a simpleton, or at least the girl she was when last they met was, gods alone knows what she could be like now, Lefford, well Lefford had always been a beautiful looking girl he remembered that much. Banefort, now that gave him pause. “Why Banefort? They have had nothing to do with us or us them since the field of fire father. Why would you suggest bringing them closer to the Rock? The Baneforts do not truly give us anything of value.”

His father is silent a long time after that, and then his response is somewhat simple. “The Baneforts offer us the chance to finally end the rumours about them being their own kingdom within the kingdom. It is something I should have thought of sooner, but of course I did not have the chance to. Now, the chance is there once more and it is something that must be looked at before being dismissed.”

Jaime looks at his father and he suspects he knows where this is going. “So I take it this is where my options end then father? The Baneforts are what you want me for, to ensure that they do not bring about any more trouble.”

His father looks at him with that hard cold stare. “My plans for you children did not end as well as I hoped, it is time that I began looking towards home to ensure that our strength is more secure before looking outward again. You shall marry Mariah Banefort, a betrothal will be put in place of course, so that you get the chance to know her. As for your sister, well the Lannisters of Lannisport are always a concern, she shall be the price of their unending loyalty.”

Jaime knows that protesting would do him no good and so he merely accepts this and once he is dismissed, Jaime leaves his father’s rooms and wanders around the halls of the Red Keep pondering one thing or another, wondering where his life will take him next. He knows now that life is not a song, something that perhaps he should have realised the first time he saw Aerys burn the Stark heir, but he wonders if perhaps like his heroes he abandoned himself to the illusion to spare himself the pain. He shakes his head and continues walking, just allowing his feet to take him wherever they will. That is how he meets the Lady Ashara, she is dressed in a simple gown of blue, her hair done in a simple band and her eyes still hauntingly beautiful. “My lady, I hope I did not disturb you.” Jaime says.

The lady laughs, and the sound is sad, and Jaime feels the urge to comfort her, though he knows not why. Her voice is musical when she replies. “No you did not Ser Jaime. I do admit you look much more fetching in your house colours than in the white of the Kingsguard. It brings out your eyes more, though of course there was something about seeing you in your armour, it made you look almost innocent.”

Jaime blushes at the compliment, but manages to hold himself together long enough to say. “I thank you for the compliment my lady. And I must say you also look rather stunning, even dressed as simply as you are. I hope you do not mind me saying so, but I am surprised you are still here, I would have thought you would have returned to Starfall. After all the interesting things have finished now.”

The lady of Starfall laughs somewhat. “King’s Landing is never boring good Ser. After all, so much occurs here, and the people are always very interesting. But I confess I have a much more personal reasoning for being here. I was not here when Elia and her children died, and I wish to be here to remember them and ensure they are not forgotten.”

Jaime feels something in his chest tighten at the mention of the Princess, and his voice is soft. “I assure you my lady, they are not forgotten.”

She looks at him then her eyes alive with a heated passion. “Of course they are not, it was your father was it not who had them killed so he could sit his daughter on the throne! It was your father who drove the war nearly to war by whispering in Robert Baratheon’s ear. Your father has brought naught but ruin to Westeros.” Jaime is somewhat stunned by her outburst, and she seems to realise this as she says even softer. “Forgive me Ser Jaime, I spoke out of turn. I did not mean…”

He interrupts her. “It is no matter my lady. You spoke from passion, and that is something I can understand. My father acted rashly and it has cost him and my family. I did not agree with what he did nor do I agree with what he is continuing to do. If I had used my brain instead of my impulsiveness I would have tried to save the Princess and her children.”

The lady looks at him then her violet eyes staring into his soul, and he tries hard not to flinch or move as she looks at him. Her voice is soft when she says. “Arthur was right about you, you are too good to be true. A true knight in this city of liars.”

Jaime blushes somewhat scarlet then and says. “I… I assure you I am no true knight, not compared to Ser Arthur. I do not think I could have done what he did against the usurper.”

The lady laughs. “Oh Ser Jaime, if only you knew. My brother has done many things that might make you wonder about that. But you are as true a knight as any I have ever met.”

Jaime blushes once more and manages to stutter out. “I thank you my lady. And I do say that you are the most beautiful lady I have seen.” The words escape his mouth before he can call them back.

Lady Ashara is looking at him somewhat intrigued, and then she says. “Surely not? I must not hold a candle to your sister, and of course many others of court here.”

Jaime is silent, thinking of Cersei is painful for him, and still there is something about the Lady Ashara that compels him to respond. “There are many others who are beautiful my lady, but there are none that I believe are as beautiful as you.” He smiles somewhat to see the lady blushing at his compliment. And they walk and talk with one another for some time, until Jaime realises that they are back at the Lady Ashara’s chambers and he hesitates, he looks her and raises an enquiring eyebrow.

“Oh have no worries Ser Jaime, I do not mean to have you in my bed tonight.” Something in his face must make him seem offended for she quickly says. “Please do not be offended, it is just that you must leave for war tomorrow, and I… last time this happened, the man died.”

Jaime thinks he has a good idea who the man is still he kisses the lady’s hand. “Worry not my lady, I have not taken offence. But I do have one small request to make. As you mentioned I ride to war tomorrow, and if you would allow it, I would write to you. So we might come to know one another better.”

The lady is silent, and for a moment he worries that he has gone too far, but Ashara merely smiles and says. “That would be delightful. I look forward to it.”

Jaime nods and then says goodnight and walks back to his own room, where he goes to bed dreaming of a woman with hauntingly beautiful violet eyes and dark brown hair and a musical laugh. He wakes the next morning with a smile, and has that smile on his face the whole time he and his father prepare to leave for battle. He still has a smile on his face when he and his father lead their men through the Lion Gate and towards the Ironborn.


	29. Five Headed Serpent

**Fourth Month of 284 A.C. Kayce**

**Lord Donnor Saltcliffe**

The orders had come through and in the weakness of the Greenlanders after the council they had held to choose their king, the Greenlands were sufficiently weakened for the strikes to begin. And so with the blessing of the drowned men, Donnor had gathered his men and allies and struck off for Fair Isle that place where the Greenlanders had so often driven his family back in the past. Lord Farman was around and alive, but not as sharp as he used to be, and Donnor and his men managed to burn the fleet at Fair Isle in the darkness, before sneaking onto the mainland and laying waste to the island and killing the men and children, before taking the women on the island and having their way with them. By the time they were done with the place, Fair Isle was a smoking ruin and Lord Farman, his son and his cousins and nephews were all dead, and his daughter the only female on the island was bound and chained, and Donnor’s personal bed slave.

She put up quite a fight this Jeyne Farman, but Donnor knew how to break women like her and over the course of the next few days and weeks that is what he had done. She now accepted him into her castle willing with little to no protest, and Donnor sated himself on her. Soon she would be wandering round with bastards following him. From Fair Isle they had known that response would come quickly and so they moved from the isle and headed towards the Ironborn descendants who had turned traitor. House Kenning of Kayce had once been an Ironborn house descended from the Kennings of Harlaw but their time on the Greenlands, had turned them soft and they had forgotten the true ways of the Ironborn. The drowned god would not abide  by this, and so Donnor and his men had sailed through and smashed the Kennings down to size and reduced them to nothing more than charred corpses wish Donnor had ordered given to the sea for the Drowned God and his deep ones to enjoy.

Donnor, his brother Beron and Lord Dagon Sunderly were gathered in what had once been the solar of the Lord Kayce, now it was soon to devolve into a brothel once they were done here. Donnor spoke first. “We have left smoking ruins in our wake at Fair Isle and here at Kayce. We have all the plunder we can take. There are only two more places we must go, Feastfires and Lannisport and we would have completed the Grey King’s journey.”

“Aye, that is true,” his brother said in response. “But the question is how do we break through Feastfires and still take Lannisport unawares. For I tell you now brother, news of Fair Isle and Kayce shall have reached the Greenlands and even now the Greenlanders shall be preparing for a retaliation. We cannot do anything without aid from Pyke.”

Dagon Sunderly speaks then his chins juggling as he does. “Aye, and I worry that help will not come quickly from Pyke. My cousin might be a bolder man than his father, but he is still cautious. Sooner or later we are going to be found out, we must move quickly to Feastfires and take what loot we can before we move back to the Islands.”

Donnor slammed his fist on the table and said. “I refuse to allow us to be hindered by the whims of the Greyjoys. For too long we have allowed them to rule over us, they were chosen during a Kingsmoot where the dragons were breathing down our necks. They are not the true lords of the islands, instead we should have returned to how we were of old. But no, that is in the past, the king on the throne is a babe now, and we shall have our justice one way or another. The Grey King demands it.”

His brother sighs and says. “Aye the Grey King will have his due. But brother we have only forty ships left to us, from the seventy that we took from Saltcliffe, we got lucky at Fair Isle the Grey King was with us then. And at Kayce, the Kennings were too complacent but the Presters and the Lannisters shall not be. We must take what we want from Feastfires and then leave for the Islands. Otherwise we shall be suffering throughout the rest of the days.”

Donnor begins to feel the frustration with everything they are face grow. “We do as the Grey King has asked us, we shall fight to ensure we have enough stores and leverage to break through from the oppressiveness of the Islands. We are the Grey King’s chosen ones and we must do as he asks nothing more nothing less. We shall take Feastfires and Lannisport and then they shall take note of us.”

Dagon Sunderly speaks then his voice quavering. “You cannot mean that my lord. The might of Pyke is far greater than anything we have here. We would be crushed, something must give if this is to happen. Even the Grey King did not try to force himself on the Drowned God’s throne.”

His brother Beron spoke up then as well. “Dagon is right brother. This is all well and good, but it is all idle talk. Euron Crow’s Eye can spin his lies and his twisted promises all he likes, but his own power comes from what his brother gives him. Sometime soon Balon will realise what sort of a Snake Euron is, and then we shall all be suffering for it.”

Donnor stares at both men in disgust. “You think I would listen to a word of what that snake says? Euron Greyjoy will die before the year is out, the Grey King has told me this. He will die and his belongings and promises will mean nothing. The Greyjoys are coming to an end and I mean to have enough power to claim the Seastone chair when this is all said and done.”

Donnor sees both men exchange looks and then his brother asks. “What would you have us do my lord?”

Donnor looks at them both and then says. “Rouse the men we set sail at first light.” With that he stalks from the hall and to his rooms where Jeyne lies in wait. He takes her multiple times that night, getting all of his anger and frustration out, his seed is still dripping down her thighs when he decides she shall be coming with him to Feastfires. He has her chained and bound and shoved onto his ship, and from there he gets dressed and armoured. He and his men board their ships and set sail from Kayce, Feastfires shall be an interesting challenge.

As they sail the short distance from Kayce to Feastfires, Donnor ponders through a fair few things. The visions from the Grey King had started when he was but a child, just freshly weaned from the teat, the Grey king had begun speaking to him of a land beyond the sea, where the Deep Ones dwelled and the Ironborn were not chained to servitude. The Grey King asked of him a great many things over his life, and he had done them willingly, he had done them to ensure the greatness of the Grey King was never forgotten, even though the Iron Islands were slowly falling to corruption under the leadership of successive Greyjoys. He knew when the time came that it would be him and his that would lead the Iron Islands to greatness once more. He was unwed, but his brother Beron had some five children all of whom would make fine rulers of the different parts of Westeros he intended to bring under the thrall of the Grey King.

The sounds of horns took him away from his visions and dreams, and as they found the castle approaching on the shoreline, once more the light and the earliness of the day gave them their refuge, not doubt the Greenlanders thought they would further north. Not today, Donnor gave a command and soon it was being passed down across the ships, they all prepared for a battle. And when they docked at land they found men coming down the hill of Feastfires and towards them. Donnor drew his axe and gave a roar of triumph, this, this would be interesting. His axe took the arm off of many a green boy as they pushed towards the castle, a tide that was unstoppable, the Greenlanders were tired and weary, and clearly they had been up all night waiting for something like this. And it would cost them dearly. He swung his axe many a time over the course of the fight up the hill, pressing his size and strength against many a green boy slaying them with ease, it became something of a game for him, to see how many of the green boys he could kill with a single blow. The number reached something along the line of thirteen when they arrived at the gates and soon found them flung open.

Entering the grounds of Feastfires, Donnor marvels somewhat at the glamour and splendour of the place, soon enough this will be awash with the sea when the great flood comes. He roars a challenge and meets those who come to take it, with his axe and his fists, bludgeoning many a man down to their deaths. His axe is dripping red with the blood of many foes, his armour has dents a plenty, and he knows he is bleeding somewhere along the line. But still he keeps going, his determination and adrenaline forcing him forward, he swings his axe and destroys once more many a green boy, gods is this all they have left. They push on through the courtyard and into the castle proper, and that is where the challenge lessens.

There are only serving women and one or two children in the castle whom Donnor orders slaughtered before progressing through the castle looking for the Lord of the Castle. The man whose blood the Grey King has asked him to drink from to experience the true power of the sea and the king beyond it.  The man who is brought before him is a short and stout man, with a bull on his armour. Donnor looks at the man and asks. “Who are you?”

“Lord Garrison Prester.” Is the response he gets.

“Well Lord Prester, you will die today, and your blood shall fuel an empire to match that of the Grey King’s in the age of heroes.” Donnor says, raising his axe.

“You will never be able to stand before the might of House Lannister, Ironborn scum. Soon you shall all burn in the seven hells.” Prester says.

Donnor laughs then. “You fool, I am the only hell that this place will ever know. For I am the Grey King’s most devout follower, and I shall show the world his might. Now prepare to meet the gods you worship.” He raises his axe, and brings it down watching as it cleaves the man’s head in two. Blood splatters his armour and his helm, but he does not mind. He barks a command for the body to be strung up on the battlements, and then asks. “Where are the other Presters?”

His brother who has appeared by his side. “There was only one more that we could find my lord. Ser Forley Prester his name was, he died by my hand. The Presters are gone, and Feastfires is yours. What are your commands?”

Donnor considers this a moment and then listens as the Grey King whispers of gold and promises. “Kill the garrison here and any other men not of ours that you find. And load the gold and other such valuables into the ships.”

“Where are we going?” his brother asks.

“Lannisport. For the revenge we have waited thousands of years for.” Is the response Donnor gives his brother.


	30. The Iron Prince

**5 th Month of 284 A.C the Crag**

**Prince Rodrik Greyjoy**

He was a prince, in title and name as much as in action. And by the gods it felt good, his father had been crowned on Old Wyk with the Driftwood Crown of old, and decreed that what Lord Donnor Saltcliffe had started he would finish. Plans had been made for many moons as they had waited and seen how the green lands had progressively gotten worse after the silver prince had supposedly fallen.  Now they had the chance to get their revenge, and show the Greenlands that they were not cowed and would be a force to reckon with once more. That Saltcliffe had broken from the fold and had begun doing what it was that he had done at Fair Isle and Kayce and Feastfires, just showed Rodrik what sort of a mad man the man was. Saltcliffe had always been a bit strange, Rodrik’s father King Balon had told him, something of an odd ball who worshipped some half human half sea man, whom he claimed was the Grey King but was in fact some demon from Nagga’s hell. Rodrik did feel somewhat bitter that he had not been given command of the longships that his father and grandfather had constructed over the years, and instead was left to deal with some sort of runty little holdfast. And yet his wife Harla from House Stonetree had assured him it was for the best. She was with child, and soon enough he would have his own son and heir to groom.

The thought of his wife and her big teats and a son to call his own, drove Rodrik on, just as sure as the thought of a nice cup of ale and a wench to warm his bed, as they pushed through the shore onto the land. The men of the Crag were ready for them, but their greater numbers were too much for the men of the Crag. Rodrik with his good friend Harras Harlaw, pushed through the ranks swinging his sword as if it were nothing more than a stick. He was born to fight, Rodrik was, and truly he was. He swung his sword again and again, cutting and swinging, bringing the men who came before him down to the ground. Staining the snow covered ground red with blood. He began laughing as he did so, swinging his sword and slashing through men who seemed little more than green boys. His sword was beginning to grow redder as the battle continued more and more men with the shells of House Westerling were being brought low as Rodrik’s men continued to come down off of the ships and onto the land.

He gave a roar and his men formed into a loose sort of sea snake position, slithering round the Westerling men and their holdfast, and cutting them down as they went through. There were many bodies on the ground, largely Westerling men. Rodrik himself clashed swords with the man he supposed was Lord Gawen Westerling, a tall man with little muscle to him, reedy, with the shells of House Westerling on his armour, and a slight swagger to him. That was what gave him away, Rodrik roared a challenge and the two met in the midst of the formation. Steel clashed and sparks began to fly, the man truly was quite weak, for there was little amongst his strength that Rodrik could not counter. When the man swung his sword all Rodrik had to do was move to the side and he would fall over into the snow, a fair few times Rodrik merely had to shove the man to the ground before he eventually decided a sword through the back was a good enough punishment for the Greenlander.

He left the corpse of Lord Westerling, and marched onward, the castle was clearly in sight. His men were overwhelming the poorly prepared Westerling forces, and as he pushed forward he noted that it was mainly Westerling men who were lying there on the ground, he laughed somewhat and pushed on. More men came charging down, and as such he cut them down with ease, laughing as he did so. There were perhaps two knights who could truly challenge him during the fighting outside of the castle, one was a big brute of a man who swung his sword as if it too were nothing more than a stick. He gave Rodrik a fair few blows but in the end Rodrik managed to slay him by shoving his sword through the man’s chest. He left his sword buried in the man’s chest and picked up the fallen man’s own sword and pushed on. The second man who proved to be a challenge was the man who stood next to the gate of the keep, it was an interesting fight, Rodrik and this man sparred for a fair bit of time, until Rodrik eventually ducked a swipe and pushed his sword into the man’s throat and pulled it out just as quickly. The man bled to death and Rodrik and his men pushed the gates open.

There were few men actually left in the castle, all those who could have put up a resistance to their force was either outside fighting, or dead. Rodrik bellowed a few commands and his men began to fan out through the grounds of the keep looking for any other men. Meanwhile Rodrik and Ser Harras and a few other men began to make their way over to where he supposed the Lord’s Solar would be. As they walked through the keep they found various women and children and Rodrik ordered them be taken as thralls, as was the Ironborn way.  It was Harras who found the solar, and it was there that Rodrik and his men found Lady Westerling and her children. Lady Westerling was a proud woman it seemed. “Yield the castle now and I might well spare your life woman.” Rodrik offered.

“I would rather die than surrender the keep to you scum.” The woman spat.

Rodrik grunted then and said. “Very well then if that is how it is to be, I shall have to end this fight for you then. Harras bring the boy here.”

Ser Harras Harlaw, his most trusted companion walked over and forcibly took the boy, from his mother, and handed him over to Rodrik. Rodrik had unsheathed his dagger by this point, and he pressed the sword into the boy’s neck. “Now woman, surrender or watch your boy die.”

The woman seemed to hesitate then and he could see the struggle going on inside of her. It was something he took fascination in watching. Eventually she said. “I…. I… cannot. Please, take me instead of Raynald, please he is just a child.”

Rodrik laughs then. “Oh, but I have not had my way with you yet woman. Alas I suppose killing the woman would make more sense than killing the boy.” He pushes the boy Raynald back to the other side of the room and then says. “Come here woman, so you might grace the drowned god with your presence.” The woman kisses her son’s head, and then walks over with great reluctance. Rodrik grabs her by the arm and turns her so that she is facing him, he forces a kiss from her and then in one quick motion slits her throat. The woman falls to the floor, and the boy is screaming now crying and trying to get through Harras’ grip. Rodrik looks at the boy once and then says. “Kill the boy as well Harras.” His friend looks at him and then nods. The boy’s throat is slit as well.

Shortly after that, Rodrik’s brother Maron walks in, Maron is somewhat of an idiot, more like their uncle Euron than their father, and as such walking down a dark pathway. “There was a babe in the nursery as well brother.” Maron says his voice sounding far too pleased.

“Where is the babe now?” Rodrik asks.

“She is with one of the men, the very lady like one… what’s his name?” Maron says.

“Baron?” Rodrik asks trying not to laugh.

“Aye Barn that’s it. He took her almost immediately. What do you want done with her?” his brother asks.

“I want a wet nurse found for the babe and I want them put on a ship and sent off to Pyke. She will be raised with my own son when he is born.” Rodrik said. His brother nodded and soon enough the arrangements had been made the damage had been assessed and once that was all done, Rodrik called a meeting in the lord’s solar. There was still blood on the floor, but the men who were gathered, including himself and Ser Harras had seen more than enough blood to last a life time. They would not be shaken but such a small matter. “We have this shit hole of a keep that my father has asked. The Westerlings are broken their strength lying on the ground dead or dying. The question is where to move to next.”

Lord Dunstan Drumm speaks then. “Pendric Hills Your Grace. There is much gold there, and besides they will expect you to head to the coast. Raiding inland is something none of us have tried since the days of Harwyn Hardhand it is time we did so.”

Rodrik’s uncle Aeron speaks then. “Aye, going for Pendric Hills means we get gold and plunder. And the Lions will be shitting themselves as their gold begins to fall.”

There was much and more laughter at that, and then Ser Harras spoke then. “I believe that would make a wise choice. Pendric Hills has gold as others have said and it means we can try to advance towards Nunn’s Deep and Banefort.”

Rodrik’s Cousin Harwyn Harlaw, a fierce man and a man much older than Rodrik spoke then. “Gold there is plenty of here in the Westerlands. We must strike out and look to attack more keeps. It is time we hurt the Lannisters and their men.”

Lord Torwyn Goodbrother speaks. “Aye, Harwyn speaks the truth. It is time we struck out and hit the castles of the Westerlands. Your father the king wants a kingdom, let us give it to him, and write our names in the songs of legend.”

Murmuring followed this, and then Maron spoke, his voice silky and dangerous. “It is all well and good discussing attacking castles. But they are castles and we do not have the equipment meant for sieges. We have luck to thank for taking the Crag. The Westerlings were fools, and now they have paid for that. Ashemark will be hard to take. And having so many men raiding at Pendric Hills would be mad. I suggest we split our forces, one half going to attack Pendric Hills and another heads south towards Castamere. Attacking the undefended mines would give us a great deal of advantage.”

Rodrik sees the sense in what his brother is saying. His voice is the one that will decide the matter and so he says. “Maron’s suggestion is a good one. That is what we shall do. I shall command half our men to Pendric Hills, and Maron you shall command the other half that goes towards Castamere.” There is murmured agreement and then the meeting ends.

They take that night to rest and to indulge themselves, and as Rodrik is heading back to his chambers with a headache somewhat, his cousin stops him and asks. “Are you sure having Maron command the second host is a good idea my prince? He is a good fighter yes, but he is green.”

“Aye he is green, all the more reason for him to do something rash and die. The boy must go for my child to be secure when they are born.” Rodrik says.

His cousin looks at him a moment and then says. “I could well just slit his throat tonight. You know I could.”

Rodrik nods. “Aye. But there is no fun in that.” With that the two cousins depart, one for a bed filled with a viper, and another that is cold and empty. The next morning Rodrik and his brother say little to one another but they embrace for what Rodrik hopes will be the last time and then they are riding off in separate directions.

There are some fifty men guarding the mines at Pendric Hills and Rodrik and his thousands of men slaughter them easily, Rodrik is bathing in their blood and in ale, his sword dripped red, as well as his armour. The men are in a good mood, the gold shall be returned to the Crag and their ships and soon enough Nunn’s Deep shall be their next move. It is as he considers this that a man comes hurrying into camp and says they spot banners approaching. Another battle for him to fight and win.


	31. Quiet Wolf/ Father Of A Pack

**6 th Month of 284 A.C. Riverrun**

**Eddard Stark**

By the gods he was tired, there had been so much that had occurred in the past three years, Brandon’s death, Lyanna’s abduction, the rebellion, Lyanna’s death, the Great Council and Robert’s death. It seemed to Ned as if he had aged some two decades in the past three years, and he was not sure if that was a good thing or not. There was so much pressure and anxiety eating away at him, his nephew was safe on the throne for now, but there was more fighting that needed to be done, the Ironborn were causing trouble in the West, and as his father needed to remain in King’s Landing in order to ensure that there was no upstarts in the crownlands.

Right now, though Ned was more than content to spend the time he had with his wife and son. His son, gods that was a strange thought, his son, Robb was a lively child always exploring and wandering around causing havoc wherever he went. That he had seemingly realised who Ned was, was something that Ned had felt was a boon and he could spend hours just watching his son play and toddle about, speaking words and sentences that might not completely make sense but which to him did. And then there was his wife, Catelyn, she was beautiful, no more so than when she was with their son, there was something about watching her with their son, their Robb, that just made Ned’s heart beat all that faster. There was a distance between them of course, he was still no word smith, but he liked to think that in time there could be a closeness between them. He hoped there could be, after all with all that had happened with his own father in recent times he wanted a family, he was desperate for one.

That was why he supposed he and his wife had fallen into bed almost immediately, whenever they were not watching over their son, or Ned was not ensuring that his men were ready to march of at the command, they were with one another and inside one another. They were discovering one another, and it was something that Ned found he quite enjoyed, he had heard Robert and Brandon speak about being with a woman often enough that he knew somewhat what to do and how to make it pleasurable not only for himself but for Catelyn- Cat, she had asked him to call her Cat- as well. It seemed she enjoyed it as well if the noises she made were any sign. And it seemed she was sure they had made another child as well, Ned would be delighted with another boy or girl, but truly he just wanted his wife and son to be safe.

It was this fear he supposed that had him and the lords of the north and the riverlands meeting in his goodfather’s solar late at night planning for every eventuality. Lord Hoster spoke first his tone slow and tired. “Word has come down from survivors in the Westerlands, it would appear the Ironborn have been causing all kinds of savage destruction along the coast. We all heard of the sack of Fair Isle and the brutal actions that were caused there, but that was not the only thing that has happened. Donnor Saltcliffe has been raiding, raping and pillaging alongside his men. Kayce and Feastfires are nothing more than burning ruins. House Kenning and House Prester are gone extinguished in the flames.”

There was a shocked silence at this and then Ned asks. “Were House Kenning not of Ironborn origin themselves? Would Saltcliffe truly turn on one of his own?”

His goodfather nods. “Aye, it has long been a belief of the Ironborn I am told that the Kennings of Kayce long ago gave up their right to claim any sort of descent of the Ironborn when they opened the gates to the Lannisters during the Andal invasion. This would be seen as avenging as that ultimate insult. Saltcliffe is said to be mad as well worshipping some sort of king below the sea that is not the Drowned God.”

Ned considers this for a moment and then asks. “Would this turn him against the Ironborn?”

His goodfather looks at Lord Jason who then speaks. “I do not think so my lord. The Ironborn can be fiercely protective of their own, withstanding the eradication of House Farwynd of Sealskin Point. But I am not the true expert, Lord Triston is.”

All eyes then turn to Lord Triston Farwynd, sixteen years old and Lord of Sealskin Point in exile. The boy, or man, swallows and then says. “I believe Lord Saltcliffe is acting on his own gumption. Balon Greyjoy is many things but an idiot is not one of them. Not completely anyway, his eradication of all but myself from my house was a strategic move to distance himself from the practices his own father had been indulging in that had caused some murmuring in the islands. As for Saltcliffe he is a man who believes he is on a mission and nothing will stop him. Greyjoy will merely use this for his own ends.”

“It would appear he already has my lords,” Lord Blackwood says speaking for the first time. “We all know of the destruction at Fair Isle, Kayce and Feastfires, but there has been word coming from the Golden Tooth. It seems Rodrik Greyjoy landed men on the shore of the Crag, the seat of House Westerling, destroyed what little resistance he faced and then had most of House Westerling destroyed. There was one baby girl who was spared but gods alone know what has happened to her. It seems Greyjoy has had more success as well, taking Pendric Hills and destroying Lord Marbrand’s host. The man’s brother has taken gold mines from Castamere it seems, and there is more to come.”

Ned considers this and tries to keep his stomach settled. Once he has achieved that he says. “It does seem strange to me that the Ironborn are going for the full force, and are not merely raiding and pillaging. That they are wiping out houses is also another thing that is worrying. What could be the cause of this?”

Triston Farwynd speaks once more. “I do believe Balon is intending to show just how true an Ironborn he is. His father was respected and feared on the islands, for his early exploits as a Lord, but as he grew older some felt he had grown too distant from the old way. Balon I feel is trying to show that he is more than his father. That he is better.”

There is some deep conversation at this as all the lords speak and ponder what this could mean. Eventually Lord Umber, known as the Greatjon speaks. “All this talking will do for nothing if the squids get their way and get their tentacles further into our positions. We need a plan of action. The Lannisters are already heading towards where they believe the squids will go, but then why should they go there and not to Lannisport?”

There is some murmuring at that, and when the door opens, and maester Vyman, Riverrun’s new maester enters the room it seems they are to gain their news. Lord Hoster reads it briefly before saying. “It would appear the Ironborn have managed to beat the Lannister Fleet off of the coast of Lannisport, at what is known as the Lion’s Mouth. It seems the Lannister fleet was utterly decimated there are very few survivors and the one who did survive one, Ser Tybolt Lannister has sent this raven from Cornfield asking for aid.”

There is even more murmuring at this and then Ser Brynden asks. “And what of the Lannisters who were at the Rock did they not come to their cousins aid? What of Lannisport?”

Lord Hoster is slow to respond but when he does a sense of despondency fills the air. “It would appear that after beating the Lannister fleet, the Ironborn ships under Victarion Greyjoy’s command, docked in at Lannisport and managed to take the city after a lot of fighting. They hold barely. But there are many dead Lannisters floating in the seas it would seem.”

There is an odd tone to his goodfather’s voice that makes Ned wonder something, but then he dismisses it and speaks. “We cannot rush to the Westerlords aid near Lannisport. We must concentrate on the threats that are near enough to us. Lord Hoster, your men are still arriving, the lords of the north are already here. It would make more sense for us to head out and to deal with whatever preliminary threats there might be before you join us.”

His father’s lords nod in approval, and Lord Hoster himself seems to be considering this. “Aye it would make sense, but then these are not the lands of the north. You are unfamiliar with them, and the Ironborn could well be lurking in the shadows. My brother Ser Brynden shall go with you and your men.”

Ned is about to protest when Ser Arthur who his father had sent along with him speaks up. “That is most kind my lord and we thank you for it. What would be the best route into the Westerlands, by the Tumblestone or heading down towards Wayfarer’s Rest towards the Golden Tooth?”

Lord Hoster considers this for a long moment and then says. “Following the Tumblestone into the Westerlands would make the most sense. The Ironborn will know of the passageways from the Golden Tooth and will be looking from that direction. They will not suspect anything of the sort, and more than likely will be somewhere between Pendric Hills and Nunn’s Deep. That would be the perfect place to spread out into four and crush them.”

Ned looks at where his goodfather has positioned the pieces on the map and then says. “You suggest doing the arrowhead formation once more then. Cornering them in between the mouth and the mines, then pushing them against the walls?”

His goodfather nods. “Aye, Ironborn are good fighters on the seas and when it comes to raiding, but fighting in close quarters which have pre planned formations they are not so good with. Sooner or later they will break.”

Ned nods and soon enough the meeting comes to an end. He returns to his and his wife’s chambers, Robb fast asleep in the cradle next to their bed. He undresses as quietly as he can, before slipping into bed. His wife stirs somewhat and then folds herself into him her eyes still closed, Ned looks at her then, just looks at her, committing her to memory, determined that if he should fall in battle, he will at least have the memory of his wife to see him through the pain. He falls asleep with his wife’s image imprinted in his eyes. His dreams though are anything but peaceful, dreams of chaos and fighting, blood and gore, and things that have long been dead coming to life once more. All of it terrifies him and he screams and cries and thrashes against the chains that have suddenly come to bind him. And in the midst of all this a wolf headed man and a half human half beast thing with horns dance and do things that make Ned want to tear his eyes out.

He awakes to the sound of his wife calling his name. His eyes come into focus and he sees her leaning over him worried. “I… I am sorry my lady, I did not mean to wake you.” He manages to say.

His wife brushes off his concern and says. “I was already awake my lord. Robb needed feeing. But are you alright, you seemed most distraught.”

Ned sits up then and says. “I am quite alright my lady. Though I…” he hesitates somewhat and then says. “I would like for us to keep one another warm my lady.” She blushes somewhat then and comes back into bed and together they fall back asleep.

When morning comes Ned and his wife speak not a word of what happened during the night, he is armoured and ready to go with the breaking of first light his wife gives him her favour to wear in battle. He thanks her for it and then once the gates are opened he and his men ride through and leave Riverrun behind. They ride in relative silence until they come towards the edge of the Tumblestone and that is when the formations are made, with Ned leading the point of the arrow and leading the charge. They are into the Westerlands for no longer than an hour, seeing snow and blood when they come across a party of Ironborn scouts and battle begins.


	32. A Court Of Kings

****

**7 th Month of 284 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

King’s Landing was always bustling with activity, filled to the brim with something or the other going on. Even with a war raging in the west, activity in the capital continued to soar and grow. In some ways this was what Rickard had been dreaming of ever since he was a young lad, growing up hearing tales of the south from his great uncle Rodrik. King’s Landing thrived and hummed with activity whilst Winterfell was somewhat dull and slow in comparison. He had always felt somewhat constrained in Winterfell, yes he had enjoyed it and it was home, but King’s Landing was another realm, it was where all the action was and it made him feel alive. So much more alive than anything else, other than his wife and children did.

The small council was of course the main thrum of activity, the politicking and manoeuvring was something that Rickard had long waited for. The council members, were of course himself as Lord Regent, Lord Wyman as master of coin, Simon Staunton his own man as master of laws and Prince Oberyn as master of whispers as well as Ser Gerold Hightower as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Lord Paxter the master of ships was away sailing to deal with the Ironborn threat, and the citadel were still deciding the matter of the Grand Maester. There were many things that needed to be discussed. “My lords, we all have very busy schedules and as such this meeting will be a somewhat fast pace discussion. I would hear firstly how the war is going.”

Prince Oberyn spoke. “Well my lord, news coming from our sources across the West report the Ironborn have begun moving more inland. Maron Greyjoy has progressed from Castamere towards Sarsfield and Oxcross. It seems that the man has received orders to begin a burning campaign. As for Rodrik Greyjoy, well your son Lord Eddard Stark and his men came into battle with Rodrik Greyjoy and his men at Nunn’s Deep. A fierce battle was fought, and at the end of it all Greyjoy was slain and the men left to hold the Deep and Pendric Hills were slaughtered.”

Rickard nods upon hearing this and asks. “And what of the Lannisters? What has Tywin Lannister done to aid us in this cause?”

Prince Oberyn’s face descends into a sneer at mention of the hand, his voice barely conceals his anger. “The man and his army are laying siege to Lannisport. It seems he is trying to starve the Ironborn out of the city.”

“So it seems that Tywin Lannister is indeed trying to starve out the Ironborn and make them pay for their laxidasical approach to conquering. It should not take too long for the Ironborn to bend their knees, considering just how badly they supposedly damaged the city they are now residing in. When Lord Redwyne brings the royal fleet up towards Lannisport, the Ironborn shall be trapped and unable to move by land or sea.” Rickard says.

Prince Oberyn nods and then says. “Aye, that is true my lord. And yet Maron Greyjoy continues to remain a threat in the Westerlands. Whilst I am sure Lord Eddard will continue to pursue whatever Ironborn are left of Rodrik Greyjoy’s party, there must be concern put forward for dealing with Maron.”

“What you say is true. And yet from the report you have given Prince Oberyn, it would seem that there is very little of Rodrik Greyjoy’s force actually left. This should mean that there is not too much for my son to do in regards to clearing up what mess they have created. Leaving him free to pursue Maron Greyjoy and his band of squids.” Rickard responds.

There was silence after that in the council as the members considered this, and then Lord Simon spoke. “What will be done once the Ironborn in the Westerlands are dealt with? Will you order the forces to engage with the Islanders on their own islands?”

Rickard nods. “Aye it would seem that would be the only reasonable course of action. After all we all know what Balon Greyjoy’s response was when I asked him what his bannermen were doing. It is time that the Ironborn learnt what it means to be truly subservient to a power greater than them. In the past we as a people have been too lenient on them. This time that shall not happen.”

All eyes are on him and then Lord Simon asks. “What do you plan on doing my lord regent?”

Rickard looks at the lords in turn and then says with a deep severity to his voice. “I intend to show them a harsh lesson. Balon Greyjoy shall loose his head and all those who do not bend the knee when we come calling shall also bend the knee. Those houses responsible for the travesties at Fair Isle, Kayce and Feastfires shall meet similar fates if they do not bend the knee. Hostages shall be taken and the islands shall experience reprimands the like they have not seen since the days of Dalton Greyjoy.”

There is silence that follows this and then Lord Wyman speaks. “A fine plan my lord regent. Now if it is okay with everyone else here, I wish to take talk to the matter of the Free Cities. As you all know there has been some disruptions occurring in trade due to the political climate in Braavos with the Sealord’s election, as such we have seen a slight fall in revenues from that particular venture. However, it should not be too serious as the candidate who we are backing for the Sealord’s post has a vested interest in ensuring that trade between us continues. As for the Stepstones many of the traders coming into port here have been complaining of the tolls be extolled on them by Lys and Tyrosh.”

Rickard looks at his old friend then and asks. “And what sort of tolls have the two daughters been exacting on them?”

Wyman looks down at his notes then looks at Rickard and says. “Excessive fares for allowing ships to pass through, taking some of the property on the ship off of it, for their own use. And asking for any girls or boys on the ships of a certain look and age to be given to them for their own uses. Any captain who refuses to pay these tolls is denied passage or is left for pirates to come and pray on.”

Rickard considers this and then asks. “And is this happening to all captains from everywhere who wish to come to King’s Landing? Or just Westerosi captains?”

His old friend looks down at his notes once more and says. “All captains who wish to come to King’s Landing my lord regent. It appears the rulers of Tyrosh and Lys are more than happy to get their toll from the ships, as it seems the regime here is looked upon unfavourably there. This could have seriously negative consequences for King’s Landing trade my lord regent. And could lead to more ships refusing to come to King’s Landing unless something is done about it.”

“Very well, send a raven asking for talks between us. When the war with the Ironborn is done I shall consider whom to send as an envoy.” Rickard says, his friend nods and then Rickard turns to Prince Oberyn and asks him. “My Prince what news on the conclave, have the citadel reached a decision yet?”

The Prince is silent a moment and then says. “My sources tell me that the sheep in the citadel continue to dither and worry over this and the other. Lannister holds great sway in the citadel through the numerous spies and such he has there. And as a result they are considering more than one Lannister candidate, though there is a source that says Gormon Tyrell could well be considered for the position as well. The man is good with the arts and with healing. Personally, if I were there I would go for Ebrose, the man is smart and does not have as much political baggage with him. Furthermore, with the king being an infant at this point it would make sense for him to be here.”

Rickard nods, a very valid point and then says. “You have your own influence amongst the conclave do you not Prince Oberyn?” the man nods. “Very well, use that influence to see Ebrose given the chain of office. I will not have a man with a loyalty to anyone other than the King and the throne here.”

The Prince nods and then says. “There is the matter of the eunuch that you asked me to look into as well my lord regent. My sources have reported that man matching his description was last seen here in Westeros boarding a ship for unknown locations on the eve of the duel between Robert Baratheon and Ser Arthur.”

Rickard considers this a moment and then asks. “Any suggestions as to where he could well have gone?”

There is silence and then it is Simon Staunton who speaks. “The man was said to be from Myr or Lys. It is very possible that he went back to one of these two places and is behind the tolls on the ships. It would not surprise me, he was the man who caused the most damage during Aerys’ reign and allowed poison to take root.”

“But what cause would he have for doing such a thing? He bent the knee to Robert Baratheon, but was the one who asked Aerys not to open the gates.” Ser Gerold says.

Silence follows this as they all consider the implications of where the eunuch could be. Eventually Rickard says. “Use your contacts in Myr and Lys to asses where the man is and if he ever was there. And if not there, then look to Pentos. I have a feeling he might well be there my prince.” Prince Oberyn nods and after that there is some more mundane discussion before the meeting comes to an end.

Once the meeting ends, Rickard accompanied by Ser Gerold and Ser Jon walk back to his rooms in Maegor’s Holdfast, where his wife Lyarra, who had recently arrived in King’s Landing is sat playing with their grandson the king. Rickard stands in the doorway a moment just watching the two of them his grandson is tottering towards his wife laughing and giggling, his curls beginning to show more evidently. He looks so much like Lyanna that it hurts sometimes for Rickard to look at him. He thanks the gods he does not look like Rhaegar Targaryen. The less reminders Rickard has of that man the better. His wife looks as beautiful at forty as she did at sixteen when they were wed. Oh they had known each other for long before that day, growing up together in Winterfell, and sharing ambitions.

“Are you going to keep standing there and staring or are you going to come over?” his wife asked teasingly.

Rickard shook his head and smiled, walked over to sit next to his wife on the edge of their bed whilst his grandson tottered over to him and smiled before running away again on steady legs. “He is growing so quickly.” Rickard says in wonder.

His wife nods and replies. “They always do at this age. Remember how it was with Brandon? He shot up so suddenly and then never stopped moving. Lya as well.” There is a sadness in his wife’s voice, and Rickard pulls her to him.

“Aye, Ned and Benjen seemed to take more time about it. They were always the more quiet ones.” Rickard says.

His wife laughs softly then as Jonothor continues to run around laughing happily. “That they did my love. That they did. I suppose it was because they were never trying to be seen. Ned at least was not, and now he is your heir with a family of his own. And Benjen, gods Benjen wants to join the watch my love.”

Rickard is somewhat taken aback by that but says. “There is honour in joining the Watch my love. And Starks have manned the wall for thousands of years.”

“You know the Watch is not what it once was. It has not been an order of prestige or honour since the days of our grandfather. There is little we can do to change that, not with that goat worshipping Qorgyle in charge. I will not have our son throw his life away from some misguided sense of trying to make amends.” Lyarra responds.

“What amends?” Rickard asks. “Benjen does not truly blame himself for Lyanna running away does he? He was just a boy who she took advantage of.”

His wife sighs and says. “They were close Rickard. Very close, and now she is gone and Benjen knows not what to do with himself.”

“He will stay and continue the family that is what he shall do.” Rickard says. “The town on the Western coast on the mouth of Sea Dragon River will soon be built, and once it is done, he shall be its lord.”

His wife looks at him then and says. “You are going to have to convince him of that my love. Simply ordering him to do it will not work.”

Rickard sighs and kisses his wife’s head and looking at his grandson says. “It appears we have a lot of work to do my love a lot of work.”


	33. Sealskin

**8 th Month of 284 A.C. Oxcross**

**Lord Triston Farwynd.**

He can still hear his mother and father screaming, as the water lapped up their bodies and the fires came pouring in. His sister and brother had been slain when the Greyjoy men had come calling, knocked and dead, and there was nothing he could have done to stop them. He was but a boy when it had happened, fifteen and not yet strong enough to wield the mace of Nereus as his brother and father had done before him when they had turned sixteen. Nereus, the Grey King, that was why his family had been killed, because Balon Greyjoy was too damn stupid to realise they worshipped the same damn god, they just gave it a different name. Nereus was the Drowned God, and the Drowned God was Nereus, or rather Nereus was the son of the Drowned God, if the thing even existed. That they had not worshipped the Drowned God had seen them taken and hit, and drowned. And yet their cousins on the Lonely Light had survived perhaps because none had truly seen or been to that damnable island, and none truly wanted to go there.

He had fled to Seagard and come to King’s Landing alongside Lord Jason Mallister, Lord Rickard Stark had promised him his revenge and it was that, that kept him going through the snow and the cold. The destruction the Greyjoys had reaped on the Westerlands horrified him and made him truly question whether or not Nereus truly existed and if so, how he could have allowed for such a beast as the Greyjoy family to come into being. It was something his dreams were filled with, wondering about what his purpose in life was, with Nereus, the Grey King, the God King sat in his halls in the lands across the sea, distilling wisdom some thought long forgotten. Telling him they all had a purpose in the schemes of the gods and that soon he would reveal all. Triston knew Saltcliffe had the same visions but Saltcliffe had always been mad and needed to be stopped before he did something wrong.

Of course fighting against Rodrik Greyjoy was something that had kept Triston going, the battle at Pendric Hills and Nunn’s Deep had given him so much relief and had been a truly cathartic experience. He had not been the one to kill Greyjoy but he had come close, wounding the bastard enough for the Sword of the Morning to finish him off. And he had played his own role destroying, the man’s outriders alongside the Greatjon Umber. He knew the northmen were suspicious of him, and they had every right to be, the Ironborn were hated as a people for a reason. But he liked to think this time fighting alongside them was earning him their respect. He was not a bad fighter, but he was not as good as his brother or father or cousins had been.

Now they had finally managed to catch onto Maron Greyjoy and his band of raiders and rapers. Destruction had followed them across the lands, and Triston had been further horrified and committed to knowing that the Greyjoys needed to be wiped off the face of the earth so that Nereus might come again, and that Nagga never rose from the sea. Greyjoy was as mad as his uncle the Crow’s Eye and had stationed no look outs or back riders, and now the carnage had truly begun in the slopes of Oxcross. Triston wielding his family’s mace swung and swung and used all the strength he had to crush one man and then another. Wearing the black armour and blue cape of his house, he roared challenge after challenge and swung his mace and crushed those who came towards him. Those he could not beat with a clean hit he killed with the spike on the tip of the mace.

The mad rush of battle was still flowing through Triston’s veins and his blood was up. Men were streaming through pounding their weapons against one another, roaring challenges and screaming for their mothers or loved ones. Triston had no such luxury and merely contented himself with a swing of his mace and the rush that came from the feeling of it connecting with a man’s skull. He was advancing towards where he thought Maron Greyjoy would be, the man had half his brother’s skill with arms but was twice as mad and would likely think himself worthy of leading from the front. It was a flaw of all Greyjoys, their belief in themselves was a curse from Nagga, as Nereus had said. It was time for them to go. Triston took a fair few blows to his arms and his chest, and his armour was dented and there were wounds forming that would sting significantly when the time came.

Triston cared not for the pain though, for he was a son of Nereus and he would not be felled by mere blows. He pushed through and swung his mace crushing those who came in his way, swatting them away like flies, intent on nothing more than revenge. It coloured his vision and dictated his every action, he roared and swung his mace swatting away men again and again until there was very little standing between him and Maron Greyjoy but the slope that led upward toward the mad man. It appeared that the mad man saw him for Triston heard his mocking voice call out. “Oh Farwynd, have you come for revenge? Have you come to show me that you are Ironborn and indeed not some Greenlander? The way you fled, god I thought you were nothing more than bones.”

Triston roared his own response. “Greyjoy I shall have your head and deliver it to your father before I kill him myself.” With that he charged up the slope and towards Maron Greyjoy who had already drawn his sword ready for him. They met in a fly of sparks and the strain of battle was showing in the way their muscles tensed and their movements were slower than they had been at the beginning of the fight. Still both were giving it their all, Triston as vengeance for his slain kin, Maron out of a sense of pride and trying to get what he believed was his.

They forced one another to look hard at their own individual strengths and weaknesses, and as such both men were soon dancing around one another, their horses having been deemed pointless. This was a fight for men, not animals. They circled round one another and then Greyjoy lunged at the same time as Triston and their weapons collided with one another, a whir was created. They broke apart and then the same thing happened again and again, until both men were tired, but neither had more wounds to show for their fight. Greyjoy was an impatient man though, unlike his uncle, Triston knew this and he suspected he knew how to exploit it as well, he moved backward, and as Greyjoy followed him he lunged forward and swung his mace, knocking the man in the side. He did this again and again, and still Greyjoy continued to fall for the trap, until finally Triston had managed to knock his sword out of his hand. With the spike pointing at the man’s throat he said through his helm. “You will die now Maron, and when I bring your head to your father I will make him kiss it.”

“You do not have the balls to do that.” Greyjoy responds.

“Oh?” Triston asks. “Watch me.” And with that he thrusts the spike straight into the man’s throat, standing there as blood begins pouring out of the wound created. He stands and he stands and then he moves away from the body, and watches it fall to the ground. He gets back on his horse and re-joins the fighting. Eventually Maron Greyjoy’s men surrender or are killed, and soon enough the battle has ended and Triston can go back to where Greyjoy’s body is and safely hack his head off. It will remain as a trophy for some time, a reminder for other times.

The northmen and Riverlanders celebrate the end of this battle with a long lasting celebration and feasting. Triston is there for some of the revelry, but leaves partway through, somewhat tired and wanting to be alone. He walks towards the woods and sits down and begins to pray. “Oh Nereus, you of the Grey King and the slayer of Nagga, let me know where the future lies and what it holds.”

He sat in silence and waited, often the King would not speak to him in words but in visions, but this time he was surprised when he heard the voice as if the king was right there next to him. “ _You are a brave man Triston Farwynd. Your father would be deeply proud of you. Soon revenge shall be yours and the Greyjoys shall die apart from one. He who must live for the cause to continue.”_

“But why must he live? You have always said the Greyjoys are the spawn of Nagga and not of your own blood.” Triston asked.

 _“There are some things which you do not know but which your cousins on Lonely Light know. They know the importance of this one son of Nagga, for he is the result of an accident when the sea dragon became a woman, and enraptured my son into madness and lust.”_ The voice responded

“Madness? What sort of madness? You mean this thing is the son of that tryst? But then how can he be alive now?” Triston asked confused.

_The king laughed. “Oh he is not the direct result of that. But rather the product of generations of the bloodline of that accident mixing with those of the true blood. His father knew something of the result and wished to remove him, but he shall be needed when the darkness comes. And death stalks this realm.”_

“But then what purpose am I to serve?” Triston asked feeling lost.

_“You are to show the wolves the true light my boy. You are to guide them towards rediscovering the past when wolves and horned ones danced and when we were allies not enemies. It is your time to show the world what brews beneath the sea might once again come to rule the land. Lead the way and when this son of mine comes to light we shall guide him.” The king responds._

“I do not understand. You wish for me to show the northmen the way. But they will never abandon their gods, they would kill me for suggesting such a thing.” Triston stutters.

_“You will do as I ask. The wolves will see the light eventually, for there is a time of the old ones to come back to the light. The false idols the foreigners worship are not right. They will cause nothing but destruction and plague. The tides are changing Triston. Show them the way.” The king says._

“But I…. I… I do not know how.” Triston says but he gets no response, and he remains there sitting in the woods for a long time ponder all that has just transpired and trying to understand what his king has asked of him.

Eventually as the sun begins to rise he stands and walks out of the woods, and sees the men either fast asleep on the ground or in their tents, some are still up, others seem to have woken early. One such man is Eddard Stark the heir to Winterfell and the commander to whom Triston has come to respect so much. “Lord Triston,” Stark says respectfully. “I had not thought to see you up this early. You left the feast early.”

Triston bows before the man before saying. “Aye, I did my lord. I did not quite want to impose on something I did not wish to be there for. It was not my victory, my victory will come when Balon Greyjoy is dead rotting before me.”

Stark seems to consider this for a moment and then says. “Well I had thought to inform you, that we shall be marching for Lannisport after we have broken our fast. It is time to end this war, and then Pyke shall be yours.”


	34. Siege of Lannisport

**11 th Month of 284 A.C. Lannisport**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

The siege of Lannisport had lasted for nearly five moons now, and throughout it all there was just one thing that had kept him going. That thing was the correspondence he kept up with Lady Ashara, they wrote about many things, their hopes, their ambitions, their worries and their dreams. He had found from corresponding with her that she was a very smart lady and quick of wit, showing that she was more than she was just a beauty. Jaime found that he was falling for her, and he knew not whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. His father it seemed did not have a problem with this correspondence and instead seemed to be encouraging him along with it. This was the one thing Jaime could not understand, did his father want him to marry Mariah Banefort or not, the Baneforts had remained unsurprisingly silent throughout the whole conflict with the Greyjoys and the Ironborn and so Jaime wondered if there would even be a betrothal.

Their siege camp had been made up of eager men when they had arrived. All of them determined to avenge the fallen of the West on the Ironborn who had dared attack their homes, and the determination had lasted through the first few months. Now though things were beginning to wind down, as the enthusiasm gave way to boredom and men began wondering when the Ironborn would cave. They’d had access to supplies that were in the city before the battle of Lion’s Mouth, and yet by now their food would’ve had to run out. It would seem that Victarion Greyjoy was either stubborn or stupid or both. And the sight of bodies being strung up on the walls of Lannisport had given new anger to the men. Something his father had been playing on during their war councils. With the arrival of the northmen and the Riverlanders it seemed to Jaime that this siege was going to come to an end.

“The royal fleet has burnt whatever ships Victarion Greyjoy had left anchored at port. And is now cutting them off from gathering anymore supplies.” Lord Hoster Tully said.

There was some murmuring at that. And then Jaime’s father spoke. “That is good very good. With the Ironborn having no access to their ships and any chance of escape they will come looking for a fight.”

Lord Hoster nodded. “Aye, they will, the question is how long will it take for them to realise that they are doomed and for them to try and fight their way out of it?”

“It should not take them too long.” Lord Tywin said. “Victarion Greyjoy is many things but he is not completely stupid. He will be slow to realise, but once he has he will try to force his way out.”

Eddard Stark the heir to Winterfell spoke then pointing at the map before them. “The Golden Lion’s gate seems the place where they shall be likely to come streaming out from. It is after all the closest place for them to look for an escape.”

Jaime’s father nodded. “Aye it is. But my men have been looking out at that gate and preparing for any attempted movement from within the city. There has of late been none. But I would not wait for too long before beginning to try to force them into action. My people are within that city and I do not want for them to starve.”

This was a side to Lord Tywin that Jaime had not seen before. And then he wondered about it, was Tybolt Lannister not within the city having being dragged in as a prisoner? And was he not also Cersei’s betrothed. His father was plotting something but what it was he knew not. Lord Kyndall spoke then. “The man are ready and waiting for a command my lords. We are ready to give our lives to ensure that the iron scum never make it out of here alive. They have destroyed our homes and raided our shores too often and now they must pay.”

There are loud voicing of agreement coming from the other Westerlords at Kyndall’s little speech. Something of a dark look passed over Lord Eddard’s face but he still spoke in a calm manner. “And there shall be justice. But there is still much we must learn. We must learn what has become of Euron Greyjoy and what became of Donnor Saltcliffe as well. The Lord Regent has specifically asked for Euron Greyjoy. His brother should know what has become of them.”

There is some murmuring at that and Lord Kyndall speaks then. “A pox on them both. If we find them, I shall kill them myself. Lord Farman was my goodbrother and my niece was reduced to nothing more than a whore before that bastard slit her throat. I will kill them and end them there and then.”

Another loud chorus of approval comes from the Westerlords, and Jaime is surprised his father has not kept them under control. Either Lord Tywin is losing his grip on his bannermen or he is allowing this to happen deliberately. Lord Triston Farwynd, an Ironborn and someone most here regard with suspicion speaks then. “It would make sense for us to look for Euron Greyjoy and Donnor Saltcliffe my lords. They are two dangerous men and their absence will mark an uneasy period for us all should they cause havoc elsewhere. As for getting Victarion Greyjoy out and ready to fight, there was always one method my father said could work.”

Silence follows this proclamation as the lords all wait to see who speaks next eventually it is Brax who speaks. “And why should we believe you? You are Ironborn just as much as these other bastards are in there. You could be leading us to a trap.”

Calls of agreement echoed in the tent, and Jaime was once again surprised his father allowed this to happen. Eddard Stark spoke up then. “Lord Triston has proven to be a good and just man, and a loyal servant to the king. He was the one who slew Maron Greyjoy and came close to slaying Rodrik Greyjoy had it not been for Ser Arthur.”

“He is still Ironborn.” Lord Kyndall says.

“I am Ironborn aye. That much will never change. But I want the Greyjoys dead as much as you do. They took my family from me if you remember Westerlander. I have more right than any of you to want their heads. Now either listen to what I say or don’t but when you die do not blame me.” Farwynd says heatedly.

Angry murmurs follow this but then Jaime’s father speaks. “Say what you have to Lord Farwynd and let us get this meeting over and done with.”

Jaime looks at the Ironborn lord curious as to what he will have to say. The man swallows and then says. “The Greyjoys have always hated us Farwynds, for reasons that none can remember. If you want Victarion Greyjoy to come out to fight before the men begin growing tired of waiting, you had best send me out with a few men to taunt him. He will not deny a challenge when I am there and his men are looking for leadership.”

“And what would happen when he comes to fight you?” Jaime’s father asks.

“I would clash weapons with him enough for the rest of you all to come and over power whatever men brings with him and then give you enough time to enter the city. I do not have enough skill to hold him off for very long.” Farwynd admits.

“So your plan revolves around you coming to blows with an experienced warrior who may or may not end up killing you before we have a chance of getting through the city gates? Not exactly a full proof plan now is it Farwynd?” Lord Kyndall says dismissively.

Farwynd smirks. “I never said it full proof my lord. I merely said it was a plan that could be used.”

Jaime senses what the man is getting at and says. “You are suggesting someone of noted prowess ride with you to give the men enough time to get through and breach the walls?”

Farwynd nods. “That is the only way that we shall get enough time for Greyjoy to die.”

There is silence for a long moment as everyone considers what needs to be done and then Jaime says. “I shall do it.” After that everything else is a bit of a blur, his father is telling him off for being so stupid, that he risking everything, but Jaime knows he can beat Greyjoy, he knows how to fight, he grew up here he knows this place like the back of his hand. Soon enough he will get to proof himself right and deserving of the heirship to the Rock. He will show his father.

His father of course ordered some 200 men to ride with him and Lord Triston with most of them being guards for Jaime himself, completely unnecessary as far as Jaime was concerned but still it gave them the men they needed to deal with Greyjoy. The overall formation of the battle plan was to surround the city as they were at present and progress forward in war formation. It seemed a simple plan but there were many little details that all linked to make it work, most importantly Jaime and Farwynd succeeding.  Jaime is armoured and mounted by the time he hears the camp come to life once more. He knows that today is a very important day sooner or later they will need to break this siege and destroy the Ironborn completely.

They ride with two banners the Lion of Lannister in Jaime’s squire’s hand, and the Seaking of House Farwynd in another westermen’s hand. They and the 200 men ride with them right to the gate of the Golden Lion and Lord Triston roars out. “GREYJOY SCUM. I am Lord Triston Farwynd come meet your death like a true Ironborn. Or are you too scared of the Grey King and his wrath?”

Silence followed this statement and then men came to the battlements and roared back. “The seal fuckers are dead. Our lord saw to that.”

Triston Farwynd bristles and roars back. “There is one seal fucker left you scum. Tell your lord to come out and die like a man.”

The two men on the battlements laugh and are about to respond when Jaime barks a command and the archers in their group fire and the two men fall to their deaths covered in arrows. More men come at that and the same result happens. This goes on until Jaime tiring of this shouts. “Tell Victarion Greyjoy to come out and fight. Otherwise we shall set the walls on fire and burn you out.”

Nothing happens for a long time after this and then, there are footsteps and the gates open. A bull like man with shoulders as big as Jaime’s head walks out dressed in full battle armour, accompanied by some fifty men. “Which one is the seal fucker?” he asks.

Triston Farwynd dressed in armour almost bigger than he is, and with a blue cloak draped around his neck, spurs his horse forward and says. “I am.”

“Then you shall die.” The bull like man says. And it is only when he comes close enough that Jaime realises he is the Greyjoy man holding Lannisport.

He remains rooted to the spot as do his men as Farwynd and Greyjoy fight, their blows echoing across the empty space, Jaime knows this is necessary after all the men both his father’s and the northmen and the Riverlanders are scaling the walls right now. But still it is painful to watch Greyjoy begin to beat Farwynd somewhat senseless, the boy nearly dies twice, and it is on the third failed attempt that Jaime spurs his own horse forward sword drawn. He blocks Greyjoy’s blow and then man grunts. And he barks at Farwynd to get back and then their dance begins.

Greyjoy is clearly tired when they exchange blows and this does Jaime a world of good. He plays on this tiredness and advances and then retreats, his horse knowing which way he wishes to go, and when Greyjoy begins roaring challenges Jaime begins moving even quicker, tiring the big bull of a man out. They move and sparks fly when their weapons meet, but Jaime is younger and quicker and he knows where to look for weaknesses. He swings and on multiple occasions connects with the openings in Greyjoy’s armour, managing to draw blood. Enough blood it seems to slow the man down even more, and when this becomes apparent, Jaime pushes the advantage, and just as he is about to strike the killing blow when Greyjoy suddenly disappears from his line of sight. Confused Jaime does not anticipate the blow to his back that sends him tumbling for his horse.

He is dazed and confused when he gets back up and Greyjoy begins pummelling away at him, swinging his hammer like a man possessed. One blow, then another rains off of Jaime’s armour some of the blows connect and leave dents. Others merely bounce off, but most of them do cause pain and he knows that come the morn he is going to be in a lot of pain. The fall from the horse is causing him to see things as well, making it harder to judge what is real and what is not. Something is dragging him down but also holding him up and so he raises his sword when he thinks he needs to and luckily survives for another bout with the great bull of a man.

It appears his earlier fight with Greyjoy has done enough damage, for soon enough Greyjoy’s blows lessen and he starts swaying, at least that is what it appears like to Jaime. The man is a bit of a blur to Jaime but he stumbles forward and in a move his uncle Tygett taught him he feints right then left and then when Greyjoy is stuck in the snow he thrusts his sword into the large gap in Greyjoy’s breastplate and buries his sword in the man. He blinks hard watching as the man falls to the ground. Blood pooling on the floor. He manages to give the command for his men to slaughter the Ironborn who came with Greyjoy and then he looks around and wonders why he sees his mother on the battlefield.


	35. Tired Wolf

**2 ND Month of 285 A.C. Pyke**

**Eddard Stark**

The war, be it this one or the last one seemed to have been going on for so long that Ned had forgotten what it was like to have peace and prosperity. And to not have to worry about whether or not someone would try and come and kill him in the night, he longed for a chance to know his wife and his son, and the new child that Catelyn said she was carrying, whom if his memory served him right would be born within the next moon or so. Gods he wanted to be there for the birth and he wanted to hold his child in his arms and see him or her. He wanted this war to end and he wanted an end to the fighting and the killing. Pendric Hills and Nunn’s Deep had been bloody affairs, and Ned had spent many a sleepless night tossing and turning over the scene in his head as more and more men died from the trap that he and his goodfather had orchestrated. So many men had died during those two battles simply because Balon Greyjoy wanted to re-establish the Ironborn as a power to be reckoned with, a dream that was surely in the old times and then age of heroes.

The battle of Lannisport had been a bloody affair as well, though Ser Jaime and Lord Triston had succeeded in their plan to remove Victarion Greyjoy the Ironborn inside the city had proven a stubborn lot. Fighting to the bitter end and proving time and again why they were regarded as such fierce fighters. There had been a fair few occasions where Ned had genuinely wondered if perhaps he might meet his end here in Lannisport. And he had thanked the old gods when that had not happened, such a reprieve and the thoughts of his wife and children had given him the strength to keep pushing through the fighting and go through the pain. Eventually they had managed to get the Ironborn to surrender, led by one Edrich Harlaw who claimed to be Lord Rodrik Harlaw’s son, they bent the knee and accepted the terms Ned’s father had sent along with him.

Once that had been achieved, they had boarded the ships of the Royal Fleet and the Redwyne Fleet and had sailed for the Iron Islands. Dividing themselves up as to whom would lead the assaults on various islands, Ned had taken command of the assault on Pyke and Lordsport, whilst Tywin Lannister had taken command of the assault on Old Wyk, Ser Arthur Dayne the assault on Great Wyk. The fleet had divided then and headed off to the respective places the commanders were due.  As they had neared Pyke a fleet of ships some thirty strong had come charging out of the docks and come to attack them, the fighting had been quick and fierce and ended with many and more men dead and the Ironborn ships destroyed. This though somewhat shocking had allowed them to land in Lordsport without too much delay or hassle. The town of Lordsport was manned to the brim with men bearing the Kraken of House Greyjoy and the Silver Fish of House Botley, who had come charging down the minute Ned and his men had landed.

It had been a fierce fight alright, Ned was still remembering it even now, and the men of House Greyjoy and House Botley were determined to make their steps to the island of Pyke proper as difficult as possible. Ned had killed more than one man in a three on one situation, having Ser Mark Ryswell with him only seemed to make him more of a target, and so they had pushed on and eventually managed to break through the rabble of men who had attacked them. Ned had even slain Lord Sawane Botley and his eldest brother Germund Botley both of whom were fierce fighters and men who had put up a good fight. From there they had marched through onto mainland Pyke and so this was where the true fighting began. The Ironborn whom Ned and his men met here were far more fierce and determined than the men who had met them upon their landing and it showed.

More than once during the course of the battle, Ned found himself ducking and kneeling, avoiding the swings of men who came charging at him through the dim of battle. Ned wheeled round avoiding another swing of an axe, and with a quick thrust and parry managed to break through his attacker’s defences. Another swing and a slash and the man was dead. His sword was starting to glimmer with blood, but still he pushed on. The chaos of the battle was something Ned would remember for many years to come, but right now all he could think of was not ending up as dead as Dorren Wull one of his guards who had just been speared through the chest. Ned used his determination to continue through the pain and the tiredness that was  this battle and swung his sword again and again, cutting through the men that were still streaming through the gaps in the walls and the cracks in the rocks that they had tried to take account of. By the gods there were so many of them, it was actually quite terrifying.

Ned knows his goodfather and the Riverlords have brought siege equipment with them and that they are attacking from the eastern side and as such this encourages Ned to bark a command for a wolf’s head formation. The formation gives him a chance to assess how many more men they can truly afford to lose- a thought that makes him somewhat sick to think on- before the victory becomes too costly. After doing a quick calculation in his head he barks for his men to form up and then waits as the Ironborn continue to stream down, he counts, one, two, three, four, five, more men are coming down now the frontline is beginning to break under the strain, six, seven, more men are dying now, eight, nine, Howland Reed is knocked unconscious in front of him, ten. “Howl.” Ned roars and his men charge with their full might, Ned ensuring that Howland is not completely trampled. They begin swinging their swords like mad, hacking away and cutting. Ducking, dodging, it is a bloodbath on they go swinging and slashing. More and more men are killed and culled. The sounds of walls breaking tells Ned that his goodfather has been successful. He barks another command and soon enough he and his men are heading towards the Great Keep of Pyke.

The Great Keep looks a ruin when Ned and his men come to it, there are men pouring out of it, and women and children as well. He tries not to think on how many of them will be culled during the fighting and pushes on his men following him. Mark is by his side when the krakens begin pushing hard at their centre. By the grace of the gods they manage to repel them, though Ned takes several nasty cuts to his arms and his chest, which begins to ache as they move forward. Ned can just about see Mark’s own spatter of wounds as well and knows that sometime soon they are going to have to get themselves looked at. The push through into the main part of the Great Keep continues, and as the Ironborn fight and die in great droves, Ned truly feels as if he is going to throw up but somehow manages to push the urge down.

It is an absolute blood bath, that much Ned knows and as he looks around him, he sees the bodies piling up and begins wondering if all of this fighting is truly worth it, the Ironborn were never going to learn how to bend the knee for long, if at all. Perhaps leaving them to their own devices would be for the best. But as he saw more and more of his men begin to falter, he shook that thought from his mind, it was time to push their advantage and kill these damn bastards before they could push them any further. On they went through the damaged halls and walls that made up the keep through the wreckage, until they arrive at the Great Hall of Pyke. Pushing through the double doors to the hall, where they find a man sat stooped on the Seastone Chair. The man looks at them disdain in his voice. “Have you come to take me to King’s Landing to bend the knee to that babe?”

Ned steps forward and removes his helm. “Balon Greyjoy, I Eddard Stark in the name of King Jonothor Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord Protector of the Realm do hereby demand your surrender.”

The man looks at him amused. “You are demanding I surrender to a child? What have you become wolf boy? You are not a man, you are a puppet.”

“Mind how you speak to Lord Eddard Kraken.” Ser Mark growls.

“Oh? And what are you going to do if I insult the wolf boy? He is no match for me, nor are you. I am Balon Greyjoy, the Drowned God’s chosen. And I will not bend willingly.” The man replied.

Ned stepped forward then, but before he could speak Triston Farwynd stepped forward and nearly charged at the chair. “You will bend the knee or I will kill you, you bastard. You took my family from me and now I will take yours from you!”

Greyjoy seems completely taken aback by the appearance of Triston and he stutters. “What are you doing here? My brothers said you were dead. All of you were supposed to be dead.”

Farwynd smiles then and says. “Well they clearly failed did they not? I am alive, and I have a gift for you.” The lad takes out a necklace that Maron Greyjoy had been wearing and throws it at Greyjoy before saying. “Your son Maron’s necklace. I killed him myself. Your sons are dead, as are your brothers. They will be here no more. You are done Greyjoy.”

Greyjoy looks at the necklace and then at Farwynd then to Ned. There is grief written all over his face and then. “I….I….”

“You are a dead man either way Lord Greyjoy. Come down now and accept your fate or be dragged to King’s Landing like a cur.” Ned says his voice cold.

Greyjoy stands then and it is on shaky legs that he walks down towards where Ned is he merely looks at him and says. “Get it over and done with Stark. I do not want to become a mere puppet of some child.”

Ned looks at the man and then at Triston who he knows is dying for the chance to get his own back at the man. He sighs and then says. “You shall not be killed by me, but by the man who you have dealt a grave insult to. Triston Farwynd shall kill you in the name of the king.”

Greyjoy’s eyes widen then and as he is carried away by two men from House Flint of Flint’s Fingers, Ned knows the man will never see daylight again. He looks at the sea stone chair and ponders what is to happen next. As it turned out there was much that needed to be done before they could return home, Old Wyk and Great Wyk were quick to submit when they found the arrival of Tywin Lannister and the sword of the morning with sizeable hosts at their doors. Harlaw and Blacktyde were next to submit, Saltcliffe held out for a little while but when the thralls of the island revolted and had House Sunderly driven to extinction, the island surrendered soon enough. Orkmont surrendered as well when the threat of a thrall uprising became apparent. After that the other islands soon enough surrendered and bent the knee. A

As for Balon Greyjoy whilst Ned was not sure he truly wanted to know how the man had died, his head was soon mounted on a spike above the remains of Pyke. Triston Farwynd had also managed to get out from the man that his grandson and his gooddaughter were on Lonely Light, and when Ned sent word to the Light they were only too happy to comply and return the woman and her child. There was much deliberation over what to do with the babe and its mother as well as the two remaining children of Balon Greyjoy and eventually it was decided that the girl Asha would go to Riverrun with Lord Hoster, whilst the boy Theon would come with Ned to Winterfell. As for the new Lord of the Islands baby Harwyn Greyjoy would foster in King’s Landing on order of Ned’s father.  Lord Rickard also asked for Lord Rodrik Harlaw to come to King’s Landing as well, and Ned as well. Upon returning to the mainland that was.

There was much feasting and celebrating done by the men, a roaring feast was under way and Ned had retreated to grounds of the Great Keep to get some peace. It was there he found young Triston Farwynd. The man looked deep in thought. “Are you going to join me or just stand there my lord?” Farwynd asked.

Ned sits down next to the man and says. “I did not wish to disturb you Lord Triston. Though I must admit I am surprised you are not inside enjoying the revelry.”

The lad smiles somewhat and says. “Aye, but I have lost my appetite for such things since my family died. I thought slaying the Greyjoys would bring me joy, but it has brought me nothing but dreams that I do not know the answer to.”

Ned considers this a moment and then says. “It takes time for wounds to heal both mental and physical my lord. Over time, you should begin to feel better and not grieve so much, but now, now I believe you are hurting and that is only natural. You did yourself proud though during this war, and I am sure my father will be more than willing to reward you for your service.”

The lad’s face takes on a thoughtful look to it then. “I… I do not wish to return to where my family once lived. There are too many ghosts there and there are things there that none should have to look at again. If it were agreeable with you and your father I would like to come north and earn my way.”

Ned is somewhat taken aback by this and says. “I am surprised by the request I will admit but I shall definitely speak to my father about it when we return to King’s Landing.” The lad nods and then gets up and leaves.

A few days later the successful army of the Iron Throne boards the ships of the royal fleet and the Redwyne Fleet and returns back to King’s Landing, where more celebrations await them.


	36. Celebration

**5 th Month of 285 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

King’s Landing was an interesting place, Rickard had quickly come to realise that. It was a place that never truly slept, there was always something going on, some intrigue or plot was always being brewed and being put into action. It was something that gave Rickard purpose and allowed him to wake up in the morning knowing that he was doing something good. Well that and the fact that his wife was with him. Lyarra was his companion in everything that he did, the ambitions to bring their house into the game good and proper and to wipe out the stain that his own father had left them with. They were one of the powers in King’s Landing but there were things that needed to be done to ensure they were the only power in King’s Landing and for that Tywin needed to go.

As it were right now there was the issue of the Ironborn that needed to be dealt with. All of the nobility of court were present for this, the lords who had fought in the Greyjoy war were here as well. The lords of the Iron Islands who had come as summoned were Lord Rodrik Harlaw, Lord Joron Blackktyde and Lord Beron Saltcliffe. Rickard sat on the Iron Throne as regent looked down at them all a feeling of true disgust echoed throughout his being. His voice was hard as iron when he spoke. “For many centuries the Ironborn caused nothing but havoc and terror for the people of the mainland. They raided and raped and pillaged their way through Westeros, leaving destruction and bastards and broken homes in their wake. Then the dragons came and this came to an end. Balon Greyjoy broke that understanding and caused more destruction than we all thought possible. Never again shall this happen, never again shall the Ironborn have the chance to cause such chaos.” There are loud shouts of approval and then Rickard says. “In order to atone for what they have done the Iron Islands shall forfeit the right to build anymore ships be they longships for war, or trade without the express permission of the throne and the master of ships. Furthermore, in order to aid redevelopment of the Westerlands, all houses who took something from the Westerlands be it gold or thralls or salt wives, they shall return them immediately. Failure to do so shall result in instant death.”

There are some nods of approval and voices that come up in support of this. The lords in front of him look somewhat satisfied, all apart from Lord Kyndall who steps forward then and says. “What of those whom they hurt and killed. What of Houses Kenning, Farman and Prester. How will they gain recompense for the actions of the Ironborn?”

There were murmurs of approval at that question, and Rickard considered this for a moment and then said. “Nothing shall ever be able to remove the horror of what happened to those three houses. But there can be a chance to allow others to try and rebuild from the wreckage. An issue that shall be discussed at a later point during this court session.”

Lord Rodrik Harlaw spoke then. “My Lord Regent, whilst I can accept the terms of reparations towards the Westerlands, I do take issue with not being allowed to build any sort of ship whatsoever without the crown’s permission. The Ironborn are a sea faring people and as such we depend on the sea for a living how are we to continue to survive without this?”

Rickard looks at the man and responds his voice as cold as ice. “You should have thought of that before you began raiding the Westerlands and burning the coastal regions. What ships are left to the Ironborn may be used for trade but there will be sever checks in place and should one word reach me of the ships being used for anything other than trading, the crown shall come and give fire and blood to the Islands.”

A chorus of approval echoes from the court, and Lord Rodrik Harlaw looks at a loss as to what to say. Lord Beron Sutcliffe named Lord given the apparent death of his brother speaks. “And what about when Euron Greyjoy comes back to haunt us? A body has not been found for the man and as much as I dislike him, I must admit should he return the Islands might well rally to his cause. How do you suggest preventing that?”

Rickard looks at the man then and though he loathes to say it he knows it must be said. “Hostages and wards shall be taken from the houses of the Iron Islands, to grow up in the Reach and the Riverlands. Should any house side with Euron Greyjoy should he ever return, they will be killed and the Iron Islands will know why we do not tolerate rebellion.”

A silence follows this statement, and stretches on for a very long time as the three Ironborn lords look at one another in silent communication. Eventually, Lord Rodrik Harlaw stands forward and gets down on bended knee. “Then please Lord Regent, accept my oath of fealty as the Harlaw of Harlaw, and please know that I accept the appointment as Regent of the Iron Islands until my great nephew Lord Harwyn is to come of age.” The other two lords also get down on one knee and offer their oaths of fealty.

Rickard accepts them and then says. “we have looked at your suggestion of having someone from the islands guard Lord Harwyn whilst he is here in King’s Landing, and as such we have decided to accept your suggestion of Ser Harras Harlaw. Now there is one more important matter that must be discussed during this court session. The issue of the succession of Kayce, Fair Isle and Feastfires. There is no clear cut successor to either of these places and as such much consideration must be made. Grand Maester Ebrose if you could please state which candidates have the best claim out of all.”

Ebrose was a genial man, but he had a backbone of that Rickard knew, and that he genuinely cared for King Jonothor was something of a relief as well. When he spoke the whole hall went silent. “Thank you Lord Regent. Regarding the succession of Kayce, there have been many families who married into House Kenning over the many centuries, but as of late the only house that had a sufficient claim on the place through blood is House Crakehall. Lord Summer Crakehall’s grandmother was a Kenning from Kayce giving them the best claim.”

Rickard considers this, the Crakehalls are fierce fighters and men who could very well play an important part in the struggles to come. “Very well then Ser Burton Crakehall please step forward.” The knight a big towering giant of a man steps forward and gets to one knee. “In the name of King Jonothor Targaryen I ask do you accept the lordship of Kayce and its lands and incomes.”

“Yes my lord regent I do.” The knight responds.

“Then I do name you Lord of Kayce, may you know peace and happiness.” Rickard responds before looking towards Ebrose for the next succession issue.

Ebrose speaks slowly. “There are no clear claimants for Feastfires my lord regent. There are several lords all of whom can claim descent from the sisters of Lord Garrison Prester’s grandfather. And as such there are even more tangled webs and blurry lines.”

Rickard considers this and then asks. “Lord Tywin, you had a potential claimant did you not?”

The snake steps forward then and his voice smooth as silk speaks. “I do my Lord Regent. My brother Ser Tygett fought bravely and honourably against the Ironborn. And if the lord regent would be so willing I would like to see him rewarded accordingly.”

Rickard considers this, seeing more cadet branches of House Lannister appear is not something he is overly keen on, but it could also mean more trouble for Lannister, especially considering the known fact that Tygett Lannister despises his brother. Eventually he says. “Very well, Ser Tygett may claim Feastfires and become its lord.” Lord Tywin bows.

Ebrose speaks then. “Finally there is the matter of Fair Isle. There are very few claimants for Fair Isle my lord regent. House Farman was beginning to die off, with babes dying in childbirth and many other issues becoming apparent. As such there are only two competing claims, one from House Hawthorne, and one from House Terrick from the riverlands.”

Hawthorne it seems could well be an ally to Lannister, whilst Lord Benedict Terrick is a man who gave Rickard some very valuable information during the Great Council and before that on Lannister. He wonders, about the man, he could become very wealthy on Fair Isle, and when that wealth comes in, he will owe it all to Rickard. That is something he could well do with. “Very well. Lord Benedict come forward please.”  Benedict Terrick is short man, but muscular, with a crop of fiery red hair. “In the name of King Jonothor Targaryen, I ask do you consent to defence of Fair Isle?”

The man looks at him and then says in that deep voice of his. “I do my lord regent.”

Rickard nods and says. “Then in the name of King Jonothor Targaryen I do name you Lord of Fair Isle. May you know peace and prosperity.”

With that the court session comes to an end, and all gathered in the throne room for court make their way down to where the tourney of King’s Landing, the tourney he had been planning since word of the taking of Pyke had reached them, is going to take place. Lords and ladies from across the realm have come despite the snow, or maybe because of it to watch the knights and lords of the realm compete. The first day of the tourney sees four rounds of jousting, in which Ser Jaime Lannister advances through beating Ser Brynden Tully in his first joust after breaking some ten lances against him, the man has an easier time of it beating Ser Jon Redfort in five lances, seven against Jorah Mormont, and finally four against Lord Monford Velaryon. Other competitors who advance through to the next round include Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan of the Kingsguard, as well as Ser Marlon Manderly a man in his prime, then there is Ser Garth Hightower, Ser Lyn Corbray, Prince Oberyn Martell and Lord Bronze Yohn Royce.

The next day there was even more action and excitement as the jousting soon came to a close, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan engaged in a near fifteen tilts before the Sword of the Morning finally broken the Bold’s lance and knocked him his horse to the cheers of the crowd. Ser Marlon went against Ser Jaime but never stood a chance given the determined look the young lion of Lannister had on his face, and their tilt lasted only four lances before Marlon was knocked from his horse. Ser Garth and Ser Lyn was another fierce competition, lasting some twelve lances before Corbray knocks Hightower from his horse. Martell and Royce is a fierce competition, and the whole audience is held captive as they break one lance and then another against one another. It takes something close to an hour before Royce manages to knock Martell from his horse eliciting cheers from the folk from the Vale.

Lannister steams through to the final round by smashing Yohn Royce in five lances. And Arthur and Corbray lasts only three before the final round begins. The whole ground is silent with anticipation as both men go to their marks, Lannister has a favour tied round his armour, and if Rickard has guessed correctly he knows who that is from. They begin and they crash lances, breaking one, then a second, then another. They continue to break lances against one another, as though there is some sort of spell on all of them unable to move away and unable to find a clear winner. An hour later and this is still the case, some fifteen lances have been broken, and the tension is growing, when the sixteenth lance is broken, the whole crowd senses that they are in for something special. The seventeenth lance breaks and the crowd begins to whisper wondering what could happen next. Finally on the eighteenth lance, Ser Jaime angles it towards the left before switching to the right at the last minute catching Ser Arthur unawares and knocking him from his horse. The whole crowd cheers, and when Rickard hands Ser Jaime the wreath, the crowd begins whispering wondering who the Lion of Lannisport is going to choose as his queen, the man does a round of the ground before placing the laurel firmly on Ashara Dayne’s head and Rickard smiles.

The rest of the tourney passes by in disinterest for Rickard the melee is one by some knight known as Strongboar, and the archery won by some knight from the riverlands. Once it is done and dusted five days after the court meeting, Rickard breathes a sigh of relief says goodbye to the various lords and ladies who had braved winter to come to King’s Landing and then settles into prepare for another council meeting. The council meeting takes place some two weeks after the court session and there is much that needs to be discussed. Rickard starts with the most pressing issue. “Tyrosh and Lys continue to exact tolls on our ships and those willing to trade in King’s Landing. This is growing unacceptable. Word was sent to both places and the response has not been positive. I would get your suggestions on the matter.”

Lord Tywin spoke then. “Diplomacy is the most beneficial method for us at this point in time my lord regent. More war will cost the kingdoms greatly and will not bring much benefit. Lys and Tyrosh have always been traditional enemies we just need to remind them of that.”

“And how do you suggest we do that my lord hand?” Rickard asked. “They are working together for a common cause and right now, there does not seem to be much that could separate them.”

“Unless you would consider reaching out to your cousins in Myr my lord regent. They are the ones who could well hold the cards for ending this alliance.” Tywin responds.

Rickard considers this a moment and the looks to the master of whispers and says. “I want a message to get to Rodrik. Let him know of our situation and tell him that it is time he repaid an old debt.”

Prince Oberyn nods and takes note of that. The next matter that is brought up also concerns issues beyond the narrow sea and it is the Prince who brings them up. “My sources have brought back news of a man who calls himself Larys and looks like the bald headed eunuch but without the bald headedness. It seems he has begun working alongside someone in Pentos and has been creating a situation of turmoil there. For what reason I know not.”

Rickard considers this and then asks. “You are certain that this man is Varys? I admit the use of the master of whispers name from the dance of dragons does seem a big clue, but then again I have not known the man to be so sloppy. What reason could he have for creating trouble in Pentos?”

The hand responds to this. “Varys is a man who likes causing trouble and chaos. For chaos is a ladder, and the faster you climb the further you are like to fall. But he has been climbing for many years now. He has some grand plan prepared. It is only a matter of time before we see what it is.”

 

“I want eyes on this man and on Pentos. Should something unusual occur there I want to be the first to know.” Rickard says looking at the Prince who nods.

The man nods and then speaks once more. “There has also been word from Volantis. It would appear that the slaves within the city have begun revolting against their masters. Some thirty members of the old blood have died already within the past three moons. It is said they are being led by someone called Moqorro.”

Rickard considers this and says. “Is he not a red priest?”

“Aye from a very old blood line.” The prince responds.

“So long as this trouble does not affect trade too much I do not truly care who sits in power.” Rickard responds.

A quick meeting to discuss very few things, and soon enough Rickard is freed from his obligations and manages to catch his son just before he heads out to return to Winterfell. Ned has grown taller and much stronger in the past four years. Rickard is proud of his son and tells him as much. “You are a true Stark my boy. Look after yourself and your family. Raise Robb and Rickon to be true Starks, and next time I see you we shall talk some more. There are important things you must know about our family that must be spoken of in Winterfell.”

His son nods and says. “Take care of yourself and mother as well father.” They hug briefly and then his son is mounting his horse and riding out of King’s Landing leading the northern army back home. Rickard’s heart feels heavy and he wonders when he will next see his son, he hopes it is in more peaceful circumstances and that the demons of their past do not come to haunt them.


	37. She Wolf

****

**Seventh Month of 285 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Lyarra Stark**

King’s Landing was a different place to Winterfell that much she had always known, especially from the tales her father had told her. The Red Keep was alive with gossip and intrigue, someone was always plotting something and observing who was plotting and who was trying to keep themselves out of the working of the intrigues. She and her husband did both thoroughly enjoy the game and being a part of it, that they were players now and not pawns was something of a relief to her, after all the chaos that had come from the She Wolves of Winterfell and their aftermath. House Stark was growing stronger and with winter here, they could only grow more powerful.

That was good, as far as she was concerned for it meant her grandson would not have to grow up in fear. Sometimes she looked at her grandson the king and wondered what madness had driven her daughter to run away with the prince. Her daughter had always been fierce and proud a true she wolf, someone who had not really ever given way to songs or such romantic fantasies as other girls her age would have done. But according to Benjen that had change at Harrenhal, where that silver haired idiot had sung some song or the other and had led her daughter to cry. Letters had been exchange and what had come to be had come to be, but sometimes Lyarra often wondered how things could have been different had her daughter tried to come to her about the betrothal rather than to her father. But then she would look at her grandson and try to shake such thoughts from her head.

Her grandson was a delightful child, he was two name days old now and was quite the sight tottering around the Red Keep giggling in that way children do about whatever took his fancy. He could talk now and would often say phrases that made no sense to anyone but him, but he was just adorable. His curls, where had they come from? Where something that made him look even more adorable. Yes he would grow up to be a fine young man with none of the insecurities his mother had had, Lyarra was determined to see to that. Just as she was determined to ensure that there were no threats externally to her babe. Her husband had his ways and she had hers.

Her ladies in waiting were some of the biggest people prone to gossiping that she had ever met. Especially Lady Mina Tyrell wife of Paxter Redwyne. Whom right now was speaking about something or the other her husband had come and complained to her of. “But of course Paxter has this way about him as most men do, that whenever he is confronted with a problem that he knows not how to solve with his fists, he wants to swat it away. And of course this problem cannot go away because it is a fixture here at court.”

“And what problem is that my lady?” Lyarra asks intrigued.

“He is nervous about the presence of Lord Velaryon and the supposed threat that this man might well bring about to his own position.” Lady Mina says.

Interest is piqued by this and Lyarra asks. “And why does Lord Paxter feel that Lord Monford is a threat? The man is his understudy I would give you that, but there is nothing to suggest the man is a threat.”

Lady Mina looks as if she has said too much but she seems to realise that she cannot go anywhere else and so she continues. “He fears the closeness between Lord Velaryon and the Lord Regent, and the fact that he was merely appointed to appease my own brother. Mace has not been quite content with the hand he has been dealt and my husband feels he will suffer for it.”

Interesting way to look at it, Lyarra thinks. “Well your husband need not worry, there is nothing that will stop him from serving as master of ships for a long time to come. Velaryon is a green boy at this point in time and even when he gets experience there will be no chance for him to advance unless gods forbid Lord Redwyne dies.”

Lady Mina nods and says. “Thank you my lady, I shall remind Paxter of that.”

Lyarra nods and then turns to Cersei Lannister who has remained here as her husband Ser Tybolt Lannister the Lord of Castamere is serving as a member of the treasury. She asks the lady. “So my lady, how are you finding married life? Is Ser Tybolt as good as Robert Baratheon was?”

An inflammatory question if ever there was one, but one asked to provoke a reaction. The Lannister girl’s lip curves up somewhat but her voice is perfectly normal when she says. “Oh he is much better my lady. He knows where to put it sober as well as drunk, though he is nowhere near the drunkard my late husband was. The conversation we have is much better as well. Less grunting and more talking about things that count.”

There is some laughter then, and Lyarra asks. “And when should we expect to see some little Lannisters walking about?”

The girl smiles then and says. “Very soon my lady, very soon indeed.”

Lyarra nods and then asks. “You must be very happy for your brother. His betrothal to Mariah Banefort is something that will definitely help bring about stability and peace to the Westerlands. Though I must admit I find it curious, the Baneforts did little during the rebellion and yet your father deems them worthy of the hand of the heir to the Rock. And not the lady Ashara whom Ser Jaime clearly favours.”

She knows she has hit a nerve when the girl’s eyes narrow and her voice becomes somewhat curt. “Jaime and Lady Ashara are but friends, they were both here during Aerys reign and as such it makes sense that they would be friends. The Baneforts are powerful bannermen and my father merely wishes to see them happy and for peace to return.”

Lyarra nods clearly seeing the lie for what it was. She turns to another lady who is part of her little court, Lady Daella Staunton wife to Simon Staunton and asks her. “My lady, you have been awfully quiet. How are things between you and Lord Simon?”

A harmless question. The lady Daella is silent a moment and then says. “Well, we are both well my lady thank you for asking. There is some interesting news and tidings that I think we might all find interesting. Prince Lewyn’s old paramour has been found in the Street of Silk plying her trade and working to keep her bastard son going. It is said Prince Oberyn visits her often to ensure something or the other.”

“Prince Lewyn had a bastard son and a paramour?” Lady Mina asks. “But I had thought the Kingsguard were not allowed to sleep with anyone.”

“Some men are less likely to stick to all their vows than others my lady.” Lyarra says. “But Prince Lewyn was a good man and it is good to know his family is looking out for his own. What more have you learnt from this?”

“It appears that there are several clients who have been visiting the woman. One of them is said to have blonde hair and green eyes. And for a time was mistaken as a Lannister but confessed to being a bastard. It seems he is using the establishment where Prince Lewyn’s paramour lives to conduct business and illegal dealings. Simon has been looking into it.” Daella replies.

They are all silent as they consider this latest piece of gossip, is it possible? Are the bastards who tried to kill Jonothor back here in King’s Landing? That would be suicide. Lady Daella looks at her then as if knowing her own thoughts and says softly. “The man it seems comes and goes, but often asks after someone known as Cella.”

Lyarra looks at Cersei Lannister then and by the way her movements have stopped and her eyes are wide, that name means something to her. What it is Lyarra knows not and she won’t find out for at that moment, Ser Mark Ryswell of the Kingsguard enters the room and says. “My lady, Lord Regent Rickard Stark has requested your presence in his solar.” Lyarra stands and nods to her ladies promising to see them later.

As she and Ser Mark walk along to her husband’s solar she asks him. “How much of that did you hear Mark?”

“Enough to know that sooner or later the Lannisters will be done for.” The knight known as the black stallion replied.

Lyarra laughed then and said. “Oh, definitely. They have become careless if they think we do not know what is to happen now.”

Further conversation between the two of them stops when they arrive at her husband’s solar Mark bows and then stands guard outside, when she enters she finds her husband sat in the great chair that resembles the winter throne, Ser Gerold stands by his side. Lyarra sits down and then says. “Did you know that the Lannister bastard is back in King’s Landing?”

Her husband nods. “Aye I did. I have asked Oberyn to look into the matter. Whomever this man is, we shall find out and deal with him accordingly.”

Lyarra nods and then says. “Redwyne is worried about his position on the small council. He suspects Velaryon is going to try and remove him from the position.”

Her husband seems surprised by this. “And he told his wife all of this and she told you? By the gods, the woman knows how to talk.”

Lyarra laughs slightly. “Aye but she is the daughter of the queen of thorns so I would definitely be careful with what we take as truth from her. I told her to reassure her husband that Monford would not come close to his position. But that might mean our plans will need to move forward somewhat.”

Rickard nods. “The Stepstones are causing more and more problems for us, trade is beginning to lessen as a result of the damn tolls these Tyroshi are imposing on the ships. We must remove them soon. Paxter could be perfect for the job, and if he were to be removed from the equation whilst serving there is not much one could do about it.”

“Has Rodrik not been able to sort out the issue?” she asks surprised.

“No. it seems he is too busy wenching to be of service to the family anymore. We must find a new agent there and someone who can rival the eunuch if he still lives as well.” Her husband replies.

“So when will you send Paxter out to deal with the Tyroshi?” she asks.

“I need to wait for Bartimus Celtigar to return from Lys first and once he is back that is when I shall send Paxter. Should something go wrong that would give us the chance to replace one Tyrell man with one of our own. It would also mean that Tyrosh and Lys would be cowering at the thought of an attack by the Iron Throne.” Her husband responds.

Lyarra smiles at her husband then and says. “A perfect plan my love. But we must convince Paxter to volunteer for the mission when it comes. I shall speak to his wife about it, suggesting that if he wants to prove his worth he should do something like this. She would be too eager to go for it as well.”

Her husband nods and then they both look at Ser Gerold who says. “I shall speak with my great nephew and get him to work on Redwyne as well.”

They both nod and as the man leaves the room Lyarra comes and sits in her husband’s lap and whispers to him. “Soon we shall need to welcome Benjen and talk with him. For the town is going well is it not my love?”

Her husband nods and in between kisses says. “Aye, when he comes we shall talk about his future.”

 


	38. Home At Last

**Ninth Month of 285 A.C. Winterfell**

**Eddard Stark**

It was good to be home, it had been nearly four years since he had last been home, and by the gods was it good to be back. It was nice to be back amongst the familiarity of the walls and the people that made Winterfell, to feel the cold air on his face and to know that it was true northern air and not false southern air. He had missed it dearly, and was truly sad that Brandon and Lyanna were not there to join him in his enjoyment, or that his father and nephew were not present either or that his mother was not. But they were in the south now in the middle of the scheming and the treachery that was King’s Landing, and if he were being honest with himself, that was not something he truly envied them.

No he liked being back in Winterfell and this time having a wife and two sons- two sons!- to share it with. His eldest son Robb was two years old now and would wander around on somewhat steady legs as he chattered away and explored the keep and the grounds around it. His second son Rickon was but a babe but was tottering after his brother as well trying to keep up, much as Ned had done with Brandon when they were babes. Ned delighted in showing them the keep and all the things around it. The people of Winterfell were of course delighted to help as well telling little tales about this and that, and Old Nan who had been here for as long as anyone could remember continued to weave her magic for Robb and Rickon. As for Catelyn, well things were growing better between them, they were speaking about various things, and they knew one another somewhat better now than they had done all those moons ago.

The last of the northern lords had now returned to their keeps and homes and their own wives, and so Ned and the people of Winterfell could breathe somewhat easily. Though there were a few things that needed to be discussed and that was why he had come to meet with Maester Luwin who had replaced the ailing Walys Flowers, it had been Luwin who had delivered both Robb and Rickon in Riverrun and as such had picked up the hard work the old maester had left behind. Ser Rodrik Cassel was also present for this meeting and so Ned spoke first. “Now that the lords of the north have returned to their homes, we must look to see how much this feasting has cost us and where we shall find the funds to replenish our coffers especially with the need for funds to build the town on the mouth of Sea Dragon River.”

Luwin speaks then his voice calm and composed. “That is indeed a key issue and with winter holding the kingdoms in its grip right now, there are many methods that cannot be used to replenish the coffers. They are not completely empty though, and as such some money can be set aside for aiding the development of the town. Furthermore with the crown contributing towards its development that should be no issue. As to how to replenish those funds that have since gone, raising taxes ever so slightly might do the trick.”

Ned protest. “They have just fought in two wars over a period of four years maester. They are not going to wish to pay more taxes. If anything that will make them question where the good sense has gone from Winterfell. No there must be another way to replenish the coffers.”

The maester considers this and then says. “It might be a good idea to begin looking to trading with the Watch and the wildlings beyond the wall. There are things that could be done to ensure we give them the materials they need in return for enough coin to make the balance return.”

Ned considers this for a moment and then says. “It could be done. Winters have always been harder for the Watch than for the rest of the north. Especially under Lord Qorgyle, there might be a need for them to have more weapons and food. Competent prices can be charged and can be brought in. What say you Ser Rodrik? Do you think the watch will be willing?”

The old grizzled knight the brother of his father’s steward Martyn nods and says. “Aye my lord, I believe that to be the smart move. The right move to make. The wildlings are another matter though something that is best left alone.”

Ned nods and then asks maester Luwin. “What more has been occurring since we last met maester?”

“There has been a raven from the Rills. From Lord Ryder, it seems he is interested in discussing a marriage between Lord Benjen and his daughter Maria.” The maester replies.

“A marriage?” Ned asks somewhat dumbfounded. “But Benjen….”

“Is sixteen my lord. A man grown and someone who is old enough and wise enough to make his own decisions and more than capable of doing so as he showed whilst yourself and your lord father were away.” Ser Rodrik says.

“And he has been considering going to the Night’s Watch my lord,” Luwin adds. “With the plans you know your father has for the town being built on the western coast, it would be essential that Benjen be convinced not to head north to the wall. Better to have him here and committed to remaining here until the town is complete.”

Ned feels somewhat uncomfortable with this and says. “I shall speak to Ben about it but I do not feel right doing this.”

Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin both nod their acceptance. And then Luwin speaks. “There is also the issue of Lord Farwynd. Some of the northern lords have been expressing something coming towards concern regarding his worship of this Grey King.”

Ned sighs then. “I have spoken with Lord Triston and he assures me that this worship of his is harmless. And he does not mean to spread it. Besides the north has been tolerant of other faiths, more so than the south. I do not see why this could be an issue?”

Luwin runs his hands together and says. “It is more a concern being voiced by Lady Flint of Flint’s Finger. As she has agreed to allow Lord Farwynd to spend some time in her keep whilst his own gets rebuilt. She worries that his worship of the Grey King might be corrupting her daughter, and with the recent storm against the Ironborn worries about the backlash this could bring.”

“I can understand her concern. But Triston is a man of honour and he will not try to do anything that would break the trust Lady Flint has shown him. If she has doubts she can ask him, and after that if she continues to have her doubts I shall speak with her.” Ned says

Both men nod and then when it becomes clear there is not much left to discuss they bow and leave. Benjen enters the solar soon after they have left. His brother is a man grown now, tall and somewhat muscular, growing a beard as well, making him look more like Brandon. His voice is nervous though when he speaks. “You wished to speak with me Ned?”

“Aye, sit down Ben.” Ned says seriously. Once his brother has sat down Ned takes a sip of water and then speaks once more. “When I first returned from the war we agreed that we would talk about your future when the time was right. That time is now. I would know if you still wish to join the Watch.”

His brother is silent a long time and then eventually replies. “I am a man grown Ned. My decision is not yours to make or comment on. That is how our laws work.”

“I know that Ben. I am not trying to influence your decision I am merely trying to ask what you wish for yourself.” Ned says.

His brother pauses and considers this for a long time. Nothing is said between them for a long while, and when his brother speaks his voice is uncertain. “I do not know what I want Ned. I want to make up for what I did and for causing Brandon’s death. I want to have a family and I want what you and Cat have Ned. But I do not know what it is that I want.”

Ned feels for his brother and it is that he supposes that makes him say. “You do not have to decide just now Ben. You might be a man grown, but the wall will still be there tomorrow, or even next year. Wait for a time and then see how you feel. You never know one thing might dominate the other. And besides you do not need to repent for Brandon’s death, for you played no part in it. It was his own foolishness that was the cause.”

Ben looks at him somewhat shocked by the harshness of the last part of that statement and it is this he supposes that makes Ben ask. “I heard Lord Ryder had been writing to you Ned. I know that he is not a powerful Lord, but his daughter is quite nice and friendly.  I would not mind spending more time with Serena.”

Ned nods and says. “I can speak with him about it and see what he says.”

Ben nods and leaves, leaving Ned alone with his thoughts and concerns. There are so many things plaguing his mind right now that he is not sure which ones to give the most importance to. The issues over the treasury are of course a major concern but something that should be easily resolved. Then there is his own relationship with his wife that must be developed, as he wishes for the company, and then there is Ben and that whole issue. Gods he does not know what to do.

A knock on the door disturbs him from his thoughts and he calls for whoever it is to come in. he is surprised to find himself looking at his wife, her hair down as he likes it, and her face somewhat flushed. “My lady, is all alright?” he asks.

His wife nods and says. “I merely wished to see if you were okay my lord. I know you have spoken to Benjen, for I saw him in the hall as I walked passed, he seemed to be deep in thought.”

“Aye, we had a discussion about some things that I am sure he would rather we did not.” Ned responds. There is silence between them then and after a moment Ned asks. “Forgive me my lady, please take a seat and tell me what you have been doing.”

His wife sits down then and sighs, before responding. “I have been with Robb and Rickon Ned.” That she calls him Ned just as easily as he can call her Cat shows that improvements have been made and he feels his hear beat quickly, hope blooming.  “I do not know how two small children can have so much energy.” She smiles slightly then and Ned feels his heart begin to beat a bit faster, gods she is so beautiful. “But thankfully they are sleeping now. Which makes it easier to come to speak with you about the news I have.”

“News my lady?” Ned asks. Worry beginning to creep in. “What… what is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong my lord,” his wife says a smile on her face. “This is good news my lord. Very good news.” She pauses a moment and then says. “Ned I believe I am with child.”

Silence as Ned thinks this through, he is shocked both at this and just how quickly it has come about. “Are you certain my lady?”

His wife nods. “Very certain my lord. I have not bled for nearly three moons now.”

Ned feels his heart begin to beat even faster, he stands then and walks to his wife, he takes her into his arms and begins kissing her. She responds eagerly and soon they have to break for air, both breathless. He looks at her then and feels some sort of unnamed emotion between them, his voice is heavy with emotion when he says. “That is wonderful, wonderful news Catelyn.”


	39. Desire

**11 th Month of 285 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

When he had been told of his leaving from the Kingsguard he had thought he would not have to spend much time in King’s Landing or any at all. And yet as the heir of Tywin Lannister Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King. Jaime had found that he was spending increasing amounts of time in the capital and in the Red Keep, the unwitting accomplice to the schemes of both his father and sister. It was growing increasingly hard for him to find the will to care about the schemes and the potential effect they could be having on the family. All he truly cared about was ensuring that he himself never had to do anything questionable again, and to ensure that his family never learnt the true extent of Tybolt Lannister’s depravity. Though considering the revelations he continued to discover about his sister, he was beginning to think that perhaps the two of them were well suited to one another.

Ashara had and continued to be his only solace during the miserable time he had in King’s Landing. She was his constant companion, providing him with gossip and information and a chance to feel like a normal person and not a pawn. Where everyone else simpered and pandered to the frivolities that his father and sister seemed to want, Ashara spoke honestly with him and he preferred that about her. Ashara was so very interesting, she was most definitely the most beautiful lady at court, far surpassing Cersei in every way, and gods the things she could do with mouth and the way she could make the most suggestive of expressions with her eyes was enough to drive any man mad with need. She had become his companion and his friend and yes he was sure he was falling in love with her. This was why he was so eager to go along with her suggestion.

“We should most definitely marry Jaime. Don’t let your father tell you what to do with this matter. The Baneforts did nothing, and besides you care for me do you not?” Ashara asked.

Jaime nods. “I do Ash, you know I do. But how can I go against my father’s wishes, when it would help heal the Westerlands? My people are suffering because of the Ironborn and this marriage could help alleviate that suffering somewhat.”

“And how would that happen Jaime?” Ashara asks. “The Baneforts do not take part in the affairs of the Westerlands let alone the realm at large. They did not even make a move when there were Ironborn raiding the coast. No there is something more going on between your father and that house. But I thought you wished to be your own man? What better way to do that than to marry someone you have chosen?”

Jaime feels torn then his duty to his house with the desire to be a free man. He hates himself for asking but he feels he must do so in order to fulfil something he had promised of himself. “But what benefit would marrying you bring to the people of the Westerlands my lady? House Dayne is a powerful house in Dorne but not necessarily in Westeros as a whole.”

Ashara looks somewhat affronted by the question but her voice is light when she says. “House Dayne is wealthy and prestigious, such a thing can encourage trade between the two regions. Aiding in development and trade. That much I can assure you. But I thought you were not a man to consider such things Jaime? What happened to wanting to follow your own heart?”

Jaime’s heart is beating very quickly in his chest when he says. “I do Ashara, my lady. But I must know what consequences my actions will have. I do not want to endanger you, and if we do what you are asking of me, there will be dangers. I would protect you from them as best as I could.”

Her face softens and she walks towards him then and as she looks up at him Jaime feels as if he could drown in her eyes. “I thank you for the sentiment Jaime. But I promise you I can protect myself as well as anyone else in my place. And I know we could be happy, very happy together. We are good for one another, you know we are. I know you do. Please don’t deny us this chance at happiness and a new life together.”

Jaime thinks on the anger he feels towards Cersei and how much hurt she has caused him, and then he looks at Ashara and sees the happiness that she gives to him and how much they have in common and then he relents and says. “Very well Ashara, my lady.” He gets down on one knee then and looks into her beautiful eyes and asks. “Lady Ashara Dayne, will you be content to be my wife and companion for the rest of our days?”

She looks at him a moment and then says. “Yes, Yes I will. And I know how to ensure that no one can stop us.” She helps him to his feet and then they are walking out of the gardens and down Aegon High Hill towards the Sept of Sleeping, where they are met by Ser Arthur.

Jaime looks at his former mentor and asks. “What… what are you doing here Ser Arthur?”

The Sword of the Morning looks at him long and hard before saying. “I am ensuring my sister is happy Ser Jaime. Now let us get inside before our cousin gets cold feet.”

Jaime looks at Ashara but she merely smiles and takes his hand and leads him into the Sept. The Sept is empty but for the Septon standing there before them and the presence of one of Jaime’s own cousins Ser Daven Lannister, whom Jaime is equally surprised to see here let alone see at all. The man merely nods and smiles, before the Septon begins speaking, as the man continues speaking, Jaime realises that this had all been planned beforehand, he would feel angry but he cannot truly feel that, not when Ashara is looking so stunningly beautiful and his heart is hammering in his chest. They both swear their vows and then they are kissing and by the gods, he wants to do more than that, so much more than that. But of course they have to end the kiss and walk back to the Red Keep. They do so as husband and wife though and for the rest of the day they spend it together, eating together, laughing and joking with one another, and Jaime’s heart feels full, so full it could burst.

When the night comes, Jaime’s heart is hammering, he has only ever slept with one person before and that too was at a different time. Ashara has slept with just two people before and both of them were very experienced. But this time it is only about them, they only allow themselves to think on each other and not the ghosts that would otherwise haunt them. They make love and Jaime has never felt as complete as he does then. When the deed is done they spend the hours talking and then eventually fall asleep. For some reason the next three days Jaime is allowed to spend it with Ashara and Ashara alone, his father it seems does not require his presence or service, and Jaime begins wondering whether the old man knows of this. He shakes off the feeling and devotes every minute he can to his new wife and ensuring she is taken care of.

The summons to see his father comes on the fourth day following his marriage, his father is in his solar in the Tower of the Hand looking over some letter or the other when Jaime enters. He sits down and then his father speaks. “So Jaime, tell me, how is married life treating you?”

Jaime is somewhat surprised but not as surprised as he supposes he should be. “It is very good father. But I must ask how did you know?”

His father merely looks at him a moment and then says. “Do you think you would have gotten married without my knowing of it or without my allowing of it? Why do you think your cousin Daven was there?”

Jaime nods considering this and then asks. “What made you agree to allow the marriage father? I had thought you were set on my marrying the Banefort girl?”

His father is silent and then he responds. “The Baneforts did nothing when the Ironborn came. It was not right to reward them with a marriage for their non-service. They can stew on the insult of the broken betrothal. Your marriage to Ashara Dayne gives us some ties to Dorne, and can go some way towards healing the wounds that the sack of King’s Landing created. The lady is beautiful and has proven she can bear children, and her brother is an important lord with good trade links in Essos. That is something we shall need in the coming years.”

Jaime looks at his father long and hard then, and then after sometime says. “So you allowed the marriage for political reasons?”

His father nods and then says. “It is the only way for such a match to be accepted by the lords of the Westerlands. Regardless of your own feelings for the girl, you must know the advantages the match brings. Had I not thought it appropriate you would not have gone to that Sept.”

Jaime nods at this, then asks. “Is that why you did not summon me during the previous few days? A greater chance to sire an heir?”

His father nods. “Yes, the more time you spent with your wife the higher the chance for there to be a child born. Cersei is with child as well, and shall shortly be returning to the Rock and once Castamere is completely liveable she and her husband shall move there.”

Jaime considers this and then asks. “You would not keep Ser Tybolt in King’s Landing?”

His father sighs. “The man is good at what he does, but he is also a Lannister of Lannisport, such men cannot be trusted. For they are the grasping hands of the family and will try to garner more power for themselves where they can. Already he will have the wealth of Castamere when the castle and mines are secure. Anymore power and I do believe he would begin to be a problem. Furthermore removing Cersei from King’s Landing also means the last of the rumours about our brief time spent in Robert Baratheon’s court are removed and forgotten soon enough.”

“That seems a reasonable enough thing to do. Though with uncle Tygett having gotten a castle of his own, surely there should not be too much concern for Tybolt Lannister? Unless of course there is another reason for why moves are being made by yourself to remove the man from court?” Jaime asks.

His father nods something flickering in his eyes that might well be pride. “That is also true. The Tullys have begun looking for brides both for Edmure Tully the heir to Riverrun as well as for Ser Brynden Tully. Something it seems has convinced the Blackfish to begin looking for a wife after all this time. Tybolt will no doubt try to get his own sister wed to the man, but we have our own candidates who could well be more suitable. Lanna, Cousin Damon’s daughter is someone who could well do the job well for the Blackfish, and Cerenna or Myrielle, Stafford’s daughters could do for the Tully heir. I want you to return to the Rock as early as possible and begin assessing them for suitability before I make the offer.”

Jaime nods somewhat disgusted that he is agreeing to do this. “It shall be done father.” With that he gets up and leaves the tower of the hand. A few days later once all the preparations have been he, his wife, and his sister and her husband leave alongside some 200 men for Casterly Rock, it should be an interesting time, and with his wife there to keep him company, he can ease the tension that has developed inside of him at the thought of Tybolt and Cersei being in his home.


	40. Serra Volaris

**2 nd Month of 286 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

Many interesting things had been happening in King’s Landing in recent months. For one thing there had been the marriage of Ser Jaime Lannister, heir to the Rock and Lady Ashara Dayne, that marriage had caused something of a stir at court mainly due to the fact that Ser Jaime was already betrothed to Mariah Banefort, a woman no one had even met, and the fact that the Lady Ashara was no longer a maiden, her maidenhead taken by someone at Harrenhal. That was a very interesting scene to watch, and when Rickard had seen Tywin Lannister seemingly approve of the match he knew the man was beginning to fall into the trap he had woven for him. It was something else knowing than an arch rival was about come crumbling down to the ground. One other thing of interest at court was the emergence of someone known as Saera Volaris, a noble lady from Volantis who had fled the purge of the city and arrived at court, the woman was quite beautiful but there was something else to her, something that Rickard did not know nor trust.

Then there was the fact that his grandson the King was growing older each and every day. King Jonothor was now three name days old and often provided Rickard with a sense of relief from the tedious nature of the court and council. The lad was an inquisitive child always asking questions and talking about things, he also liked to go wandering through the Red Keep. This had led to many a journey through the keep looking for him, and more often than not the Kingsguard would walk back with the child in their arms. He was truly a sweet child and someone who would do well when the other children Rickard had planned to come, came.

It was the thought of his grandson that kept him going now as he sat through another council meeting. The game was what thrilled him but that did not mean it could not also get quite tedious sometimes. Lord Wyman was speaking about the costs of something or the other. “My lord regent, the cost of building the town on the Western coast of the north on the mouth of Sea Dragon River is slightly higher than expected. Due to the snows and the cold icy conditions some of the work had to stop but it has since restarted and we should be able to cover the cost of the delay soon enough. According to reports coming from the north, the town now has its walls built and the castle itself is coming along, whilst the port is rising quickly.”

Rickard nodded and then asked. “And what of the building of the northern fleet? How goes that?”

Lord Wyman looks down at his notes and says. “Well my lord regent, it is going according to plan. Some thirty ships have been built already and should soon be ready for travel and trade. Another thirty are expected to be done by the end of the moon ready for travel as well.”

Rickard nods and then asks. “And what of trade as a whole for the kingdoms how does that look?”

“Trade between the north and the Westerlands is at its highest since Dagon Greyjoy’s raiding. The exchange of northern timber for gold and silver is levelling in value. As such both kingdoms are seeing their economy grow as a result. Inter kingdom trade is also prospering, and as such the coffers of all the kingdoms with the exception of the Iron Islands are growing and have seen a one percent growth since the end of the fighting. As for trade with the Free Cities, it has resumed positively with Braavos since the election of the Sealord, and timber, lumber and ore and other such materials are being traded with the Braavosi. Myr has brought in a considerable profit, due to our trading as well. Lys and Tyrosh continue to be a problem though, what with their tolls on the ships coming and going from King’s Landing through the Stepstones passageway.” Wyman responded.

Rickard sighed. “The Archon and his men assure me that this is merely the doing of the council of Lys. And yet the Lyseni claim that it is the working of the Archon and his men. They are pitting us against the other and waiting to see which one we bite for. It will not do, sooner or later they will overstep as they did during the reign of King Viserys the first, and when they do it might well be too late. No we must deal with this problem here and now for the good of the realm and for the good of trade.”

“What would you suggest my lord regent?” Tywin Lannister asked.

Rickard considers for a moment and then says. “They will clearly not accept any sort of diplomatic overtures to end their senseless tolls and so we must do as the Targaryens did in the days of old. We must drive them out from the Stepstones by force and claim it as our own.”

Silence greeted this statement and then Lord Tywin spoke up. “A sensible suggestion my lord regent. And yet we are not the Targaryens of old. We do not have dragons with which to rain hellfire down on the pirates and the Tyroshi and Lyseni from the sky. Our men are tired and weary of war, and winter is here now. Where shall we gain the forces that could reasonably do this job?”

Rickard ponders this, and then says. “There are men who did not take part in the fighting against the Ironborn and who had a chance to recuperate and restore their defences. The lords of the Reach and Dorne, the lords of the Vale. All have had time to prepare themselves for winter in advance, as well as the Lords of the Stormlands. It could be something of an exercise in getting them to show their loyalty as well.”

Tywin seems stumped by this. “That is true my lord regent. Very true, though it might be wise to ask for second sons to go, so as to not give the lords a worry that their heirs might die in this winter. Furthermore who shall command the fleet?”

Paxter Redwyne as expected speaks up to volunteer. “I would be most honoured to command the fleet that takes the Stepstones and drives the foreigners away from what is rightfully ours.”

Rickard looks at the hand and says. “There you have it, Lord Paxter Redwyne shall command the fleet that drives out the Tyrosh and the Lyseni. And I shall send ravens to the Dornish and the Reachmen as well as to Storm’s End asking for men to fight alongside the men of the royal fleet.” The hand merely nods at this, and Rickard feels like smiling, once the plans are made for the full assault, Rickard turns the conversation to another matter. “Prince Oberyn has there been any word on what is going on in Volantis?”

“The slave revolts have begun growing in number. We all know from Lady Volaris the horrors of the Red Demon that occurred some three moons ago. But what even she did not know is that the tiger cloaks have begun revolting as well. Soon enough the triarchy shall be done for, the old blood have begun fleeing in even greater droves, fleeing to Lys, Tyrosh, Myr, anywhere they can get to that will protect them from the flames of Moqorro. The man has crowned himself King of Volantis and has the red priests and the slaves behind him.” Prince Oberyn responds.

Troubling news indeed Rickard asks. “What is this King Moqorro like and what does he want?”

The master of whispers is silent a moment considering his response before eventually replying. “He is a dangerous man by all accounts. A man with fierce devotion to the Red God, and someone who knows how to get what he wants. He has won the slaves over through sheer force of personality and being able to use a sword and get his hands dirty when he wishes to. As to what he wants, it seems he wants Volantis, though some of my spies say he wishes to bring back Valyria.”

The Hand snorts then. “A mad man then. No one will bring back Valyria for the dragons are all dead.”

Rickard nods. “Still it should not hurt to keep an eye on the man. If he begins looking towards Westeros, I want him removed.” The master of whispers nods. “Now is there aught else for us to discuss?” when none reply Rickard calls an end to the meeting, and stands accompanied by Ser Gerold and walks out of the council chamber back to his own rooms and solar where he asks for Lord Hoster Tully to be brought, the man had come to court at Rickard’s invitation.

Rickard has just about prepared himself for their conversation when there is a knock on the door followed by the entrance of Lord Hoster Tully. The man looks invigorated as if court has proven to be a blessing for him. Rickard stands and shakes the man’s hand and then once they have both sat down says. “My old friend, I know you have enjoyed court and the games that are played here. But I am sure you must be wondering why I have asked to meet with you.” The man nods and Rickard continues. “I have been hearing rumours that Tywin Lannister means to ask for a betrothal between his niece Cerenna Lannister to your son Edmure, as well as between his cousin Lanna to your brother Ser Brynden. I wished to know whether or not you would accept such offers?”

The man is silent for a moment and then says. “Whilst I too have heard the rumours of these offers how true they are I do not know. I do know the man has expressed an interest in seeing his niece wed to Edmure, and I am tempted to allow that to happen, mainly due to the fact that it would give us a foot in the Westerlands. And a tool to use against Lannister should he begin to grow too bold. As for my brother, well Brynden has always been stubborn and determined to carve his own path in life, and so has already married someone.” Rickard looks at the man in shock before nodding for his friend to continue. “It seems my brother became smitten with one Jayne Bracken whilst visiting Stone Hedge and has since married her. I was there for the wedding but I admit even I was surprised it was happening. The two do seem to be fond of one another.”

Silence follows the end of his friend’s response and Rickard considers what he has just been told. “Will Ser Brynden continue to remain at Riverrun then? Or will he move to Stone Hedge?”

Lord Hoster sighs then and says. “Neither, it seems Jonos Bracken is determined to see his nephew as his heir and so I have ordered Oldstones to be rebuilt. My brother and goodsister shall live there when it is done. Until then they shall live in Riverrun.”

Rickard nods. “A good plan, and something that will be good for when your son and Lady Asha grow  into adulthood. I must ask how the Lady Asha is doing though. Has she become accustomed to the Greenlands?”

“She is getting along well I believe my lord regent. I suppose it helps that she has had boys her own age with which to spar and get to know. Aside from my son, many other Riverlords have been quite keen to get to know her. Patrek Mallister heir to Seagard, Marq Piper heir to Pinkmaiden, Jon Mooton the heir to Maidenpool, as well as Perwyn Frey and Brynden Blackwood. All have come under one reason or another to foster in Riverrun or to squire alongside my son. All with the intention of trying to woo Lady Asha.” Hoster says.

“And whom are you tempted to allow to go for the hand of the lady? They are all quite young after all are they not? There will be plenty of time for us to assess which one is suitable.” Rickard reasons.

Lord Hoster is silent a moment and then says. “Ideally I would like for Edmure and Asha to marry, to solidify the alliance between the Greyjoys and my family. And yet if Patrek and Asha were to marry I would not voice too many complaints.”

Rickard nods and then says. “There is one more matter that we must discuss as well my lord. The issue of Tywin Lannister.”

Rickard sees his friend straighten at the mention of the man and his voice is inquisitive when he asks. “What more movement has been made on that issue my lord regent?”

“We know that the man has his bastard within King’s Landing to what end though I am not sure. It must be something to do with the attempt that was made on the king at Highgarden as such the bastard is being watched night and day. As for his children, well with both his son and daughter gone from King’s Landing the pawns that could have been used to bring about his downfall have gone, but the tools that fool Tybolt Lannister left are still here. It would be very easy to bring them into light and expose the Lannisters as a whole.” Rickard responds.

Rickard knows his friend wishes to know what these tools are, but he knows better than to ask. Instead he says. “Will you use them?”

Rickard nods. “Aye I shall, but only once Paxter Redwyne has dealt with the Stepstones. For the time being though I need to know if your friends in the Westerlands are still willing to hold up their end of the deal.”

His friend nods and says. “They are, more than willing. The broken betrothal has hurt them hard and now they are looking to bring things back full circle.”

Rickard smiles then and says. “Tell them that when the moon is next full, that is when they should move from their fortress.”

 


	41. Lady Wolf

**4 th Month of 286 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lady Lyarra Stark**

Winter was firmly in place and had been four years now, in King’s Landing it seemed there were times when snow storms would come and all activity would stop. There would be no one out on the street doing business and there would be no one trying to plot, all would be enjoying the snow and the freedom it offered dressed head to foot in warm clothes. Lyarra and her youngest son Benjen though did not need to fear the snow or the cold, but still they dressed up warmly especially as Jonothor was at that age where if they did something he wanted to do it to. Jonothor was a cute child, his curls were growing ever longer, and soon would need to be cut, he was a inquisitive child always asking questions and repeating what he learnt. And he would often go for a walk and disappear for hours at a time only to reappear with one or two of the Kingsguard either carrying him back after he had exhausted himself or following him back to his rooms in the nursery. The child truly was sweet and the fact that he got along so well with his aunt as well was good. Daenerys was a sweet child as well, shy and quiet, but always involved in whatever trouble Jonothor got up to.

Benjen, her youngest son had come to King’s Landing per her husband’s request. He had grown so quickly, he was tall and muscular from his hours in the practice yard. He had a bit of a beard as well almost as much as Ned was said to have. Her youngest son had always been a bit between Brandon and Ned in terms of personality, he could be loud and brash like his oldest brother or he could be contemplative and quiet like his second brother. He was her favourite child though that much she knew. Though she loved her children fiercely, she loved Benjen the most, for he was her boy, her little boy and now he was growing up so quickly. He had become something of an older brother for Prince Viserys, with the boy constantly following him around asking her son questions which he dutifully answered.

She knew that she would be meeting with her son and her husband to discuss Benjen’s future soon enough, right now she needed to bring her attention back to the ladies she was currently with. Especially Lady Mina Tyrell. “I am so sorry for your loss Mina. Paxter was a good man, true and brave. He died fighting for his king and the kingdom.” Lyarra offered.

Lady Mina’s husband Paxter had died during the fighting in the Stepstones killed by one Crago Danzahar and though the fighting in the Stepstones was going very well, she knew the lady would be grief stricken. “I… I should not have asked him to volunteer to lead the mission. He was reluctant to go, and now he has gone and he is not here anymore. I… I…” the girl broke of sobbing.

“It is okay my lady.” Lyarra soothes her. “Paxter would’ve had to go regardless as master of ships. That he volunteered shows just how committed he was to the royal cause. He died a hero’s death. It is sad that he died, but he has done his oath honour and himself honour. The King will remember Lord Paxter.”

The lady continues to sob. “I… I.. do not know what to do now my lady. I am sorry for this. My children are only small, I… I will have to return to the Arbor to ensure that they are alright and raised well.”

Lyarra shakes her head then. Can’t allow for that to happen. “Nonsense Mina. Your children can come to court. Horas and Hobber can come to court, and become friends with Prince Viserys I am sure they would all enjoy that. Your daughter Desmera is already here and good friends with Princess Daenerys. You don’t want to disrupt that do you?”

The woman continues to sob and then eventually wipes her eyes and says. “Of course. You are right my lady. I shall send word to the Arbor and ask them to send my boys as quickly as possible.”

Lyarra nods. “I shall speak with my husband and ask him to send men as well to ensure they are safe. It would be best for them to come by land with the fighting still going on.”

The woman hesitates for a moment and then nods and Lyarra knows she has got a victory. She then turns to Lady Daella Staunton and asks. “So my lady has there been any more gossip from amongst the crownlords that you have for us?”

Daella Staunton is a shrewd woman, named after an even shrewder woman, and as such she chooses her words carefully. “It does appear as if the succession of Stokeworth is going to become an issue. Lord Alyn Stokeworth has just died without issue and his sisters are squabbling over who gets to sit their arse in the Faithful chair. One argues that she should sit the chair due to having more children and four sons, the other argues that she should sit the chair due to being elder.”

Lyarra smirks then. “That they have not brought the issue before court is something interesting. Most women would have done so.”

Lady Staunton smirks somewhat and says. “The Stokeworths are not normal women. They were brought up with a lot of pride and ill begotten believes that they are special. They have too much pride to come forward to the crown and as such will bicker and argue but will never do anything. They will rule Stokeworth together during this time, and ensure no one else comes and goes.”

Lyarra nods filing this piece of information away for later. “Surely that is not the only thing you know of my lady. What more do you know that you don’t tell your husband?”

Daella Staunton does not disappoint. “It would appear that Ser Alor Dayne has made a reappearance in King’s Landing as well. Our little friend happened to spot him coming into the brothel with his son. It seems they had some urgent business to discuss with the proprietor of the brothel.”

“Now that is interesting,” Lyarra says. “Ser Alor has not been in King’s Landing since the day King Aegon the fortunate removed him from the small council. Whatever he and his son are doing in that brothel, and whatever they must be discussing must be of grave importance for him to come to the place he hates the most.”

Lady Daella nods. “Indeed, that is what I was thinking. I think it could have something to do with Prince Lewyn’s bastard. The child is now eight years old, and soon enough will be old enough to squire. I think they are trying to cover that whole affair up. Though there are some I know who think it has to do with that golden haired bastard in the brothel.”

“The man is still there? BY the gods either he must like that brothel or there is something else going on.” Lyarra says.

Lady Daella nods. “That is what I think as well my lady. Something is definitely going on in that brothel, but what is I know not.”

Lyarra nods, knowing something more than the woman but not wanting to give away all her secrets instead she asks. “And what news of Lady Gaunt?”

Lady Gaunt was a shrew of a woman, someone who neither morals nor honour and did all she could to remind everyone of the importance her husband and brother had once held in the King’s court. Some said she was mad, only Daella Staunton knew the truth. “Oh she continues to push the boundaries, her son grows impatient waiting for her to die. And her family wonders what sort of sins they have committed to be left with her. There are rumours she means to leave the castle not to her son, but to her lack wit brother just out of spite.”

Lyarra laughed that was most certainly something that the woman would do. Noticing Ser Mark hovering in the doorway she stood then and said. “Forgive me my ladies but I must go. I shall see you on the morrow.” With that she walks towards the door and links her arm with Ser Mark’s and they walk in companiable silence to her husband’s solar.

Upon entering she finds her husband sat in the winter chair, his face looking worn and tired his beard greying. Her son sits opposite him looking for all the world like Rickard did at that age. Lyarra clears her throat and then sits down. Her husband speaks first. “Benjen has just told me that apparently, there has been an offer of marriage from Lord Ryder for one of his daughters to marry Ben.”

Lyarra looks at her husband and then her son and says. “And what sort of response was given back by you Benjen?”

Her son shifts uncomfortably in his seat and his voice is soft when he says. “I… I said I was not sure. That I wanted to wait for some time.”

Lyarra breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Giving a definitive answer to a man such as Lord Ryder would have been a bad move. The man knows how to hold a grudge. Have there been any other offers?”

Her son shakes his head. “Apart from the offers from Lord Ryder and from Lord Umber that you already know of no. I truly do not know whether or not I wish to remain in Winterfell anyway.”

Lyarra sighs and says. “Benjen if this has to do with joining the Watch out of some sort of misguided attempt at repenting for something you did not do, then you can forget it right now.”

Her son protests. “I am a man grown mother. I am ten and seven, not some little boy anymore. I have thought long and hard about it and I have begun to wonder if perhaps I would be of more use on the wall than sitting in Winterfell or in King’s Landing playing with little children.”

“Is there so much wrong with being someone whom your nephews and nieces can play with Benjen? Do you not want your own family as well?” Lyarra asks pleadingly.

Her son falters for a moment and then says. “What good is it for me to have a family if Brandon and Lya cannot have families? They should be alive right now enjoying winter, but they are not because I did not tell father.”

Rickard speaks then his voice containing a lot of anger. “There was nothing for you to tell me. Brandon and Lyanna sealed their own fates with their rash actions. I will not accept that you are denying yourself the chance to have a family and know your children out of some pathetic attempt to make amends. If you truly feel you must make amends you will not run away to the Watch. You will confront your demons like a man. We are wolves not mice. We stand and face our problems. And you will do the same.”

There is a silence then, and Lyarra looks at her son who looks shamed faced and her husband who looks angry and tired. Eventually her son speaks. “I… I know father. I will stay here for some more time and get to know Lya’s boy. I want to have a chance to get to know him. I am not needed as the spare anymore in Winterfell, for Ned has two sons and a daughter now. I want to see more of the kingdoms. Once that is done I shall consider settling down.”

Her husband looks to protest but Lyarra lies a hand on his arm and silences him speaking for them both. “That is fine Benjen. So long as you are happy we are happy.”


	42. Seahorse

**6 th Month of 286 A.C. Stepstones**

**Lord Monford Velaryon**

Growing up Monford had dreamed of becoming another Seasnake or another Oakenfist, he wanted to bring glory to his house and make it the powerhouse it had once been. His father had served as master of ships to King Aerys the mad king, but had not been a true Velaryon, a snivelling and conniving man his father had been, a man who had been disappointed that Monford had not been born a girl so that he could marry into the royal family. His father and his two elder brothers had died on the God’s Eye fighting under the Targaryen banner leaving Monford alone on the Driftmark to pick up the wreckage. Their family had become a laughing stock, no longer the proud and true house they had been in ages past, bad mistakes and even worse decisions had cost them a lot and it was his time to make that right. He had married Laena Celtigar two years before the war had begun and they now had two sons, Corlys and Monterys, and Monford was determined that they would never know the shame he had known.

 The fighting in the Stepstones was his chance to prove that House Velaryon was on the rise once more. Oh he had fought against the Greyjoys had taken some sort of pride in knowing he was the understudy to Paxter Redwyne, but he hungered for true glory and now that chance had come. Redwyne was gone resting at the bottom of the sea and now Monford having taken up command was going to bring about the end of the Tyroshi and Lyseni threat. They had broken the army of sellsails that Tyrosh had left in command of the damnable islands at Grey Gallows breaking through their ships and destroying their fleet that had been the battle that had seen Redwyne die. The taking of the islands had been easy enough the sellswords and Essosi gathered there were disunited and broken, and Monford had ordered their deaths watching and listening as they all squealed for mercy. A fitting punishment for oath breakers.

With the islands in their possession there was the matter of the two cities that would undoubtedly come calling once more. That was what Monford had called a war meeting for. Beside himself and Lord Adrian Celtigar, Lord Stannis Baratheon, Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord Eldon Estermont, Lord Massey and Lord Lucifer Hardy were present. All of them were very opinionated people and were determined to have their say. Monford of course spoke first. “We know well what our position is my lords. We hold the Stepstones but if we want a realistic chance of maintaining that hold we must deal first with Tyrosh and then Lys. Tyrosh at this point in time is not too big a threat it was the majority of their strength that was holding Grey Gallows and Bloodstone. Still I would hear your thoughts.”

Lord Adrian Celtigar Monford’s goodfather was a bitter old man and it showed when he said. “Tyrosh must be reduced to ash and sunder. They have caused great pain and agony to us, and must know that we do not take such things lightly. Let us burn their city to the ground and destroy what little economy they have.”

A hard statement made by a bitter old man who lost his love to the Archon of Tyrosh many years ago. Monford speaks then. “Burning Tyrosh will gain us nothing but their enmity my lord. Whilst I can sympathise with the desire to see the damnable place reduced to rubble, we must remember what the Lord Regent has asked us to do. We are to take the Stepstones which we have done, and then we must subdue Tyrosh and Lys to prevent them from trying to attack the islands when we are gone.”

“And how else are we to do that other than by reducing them to rubble?” Celtigar asks.

Monford looks at the man and then at the lords gathered and says. “Conquest. They cannot cause us harm here if they owe it to us that they are still standing. We bring them under the Iron Throne’s rule and that is one sure fire way to ensure they shall not try to break the peace again.”

Silence and then Lord Stannis speaks. “A reasonable suggestion my lord. But is it a realistic one? It will take a lot of time to bring both cities under our command, and that is time we do not have. We were given clear instructions, breaking their strength makes sense. Even reducing them to nothing more than ash makes sense, but conquest? That seems fanciable to me.”

Monford looks at the Baratheon lord, a man he had had his doubts about but someone who had proven to be a good commander of men. He takes a breath and then says. “I can understand why you might think that my lord. And yet reducing them to ash and rubble would take far longer than merely bringing them to heel and conquering them. Tyrosh is nearly spent, we know that for a fact. Their ships are doing more and more defensive manoeuvring a sure sign that they are breaking. And Lys looks as if they are counting their eggs. Now is the perfect chance to reduce them to nothingness.”

Baratheon speaks his mind once more. “And yet that would also cost us resources and men. We need both mainly to garrison the Stepstones and to begin ensuring that the throne’s hold on the islands does not give way.”

“That is why we must take Tyrosh and Lys. We must bring them under the throne’s control otherwise we shall be plagued by activity for the next five years I can tell you that much. Tyrosh is easily dealt with, it is weakening, and with the influx of nobles from Volantis they will be looking for safety not more war. Lys is another matter, they are still strong but remove Tyrosh and they shall have nowhere to turn to.” Monford emphasises.

The Baratheon Lord remains silent but Lord Estermont speaks then. “And what will we do should we go to attack Tyrosh and Lys comes to strike us from behind? We do not have enough ships to hold off a joint attack such as that. Myr itself could become involved.”

Monford looks at the old man then and says curtly. “Myr does not want to get involved they have made that much clear. They are too busy looking towards Pentos and Braavos and worrying about what is going on there. No, they shall remain out of this fight, and I intend to ensure that by the time they even consider getting involved there is nothing for them to take part in.”

“And what of Lys my lord? What will you do if they should decide they want the Stepstones?” Estermont asks.

Monford knows he is taking a big gamble here but he says. “I do not think Lys shall be moving from their island anytime soon. They are too divided over their course of action after the fight to take the Stepstones. They are riven by internal divisions. We shall have enough time to take Tyrosh and still deal with Lys.”

Lord Selwyn Tarth speaks then. “Lord Monford is right. The Lyseni are known for not being the most amicable of people at the best of times. And now that they are losing this war, soon enough there shall be little of them left to fight us. I say we push forward and hit Tyrosh with all the strength we have now.”

Murmurs of agreement are heard in the tent and then when it seems the lords have been convinced plans are drawn up for the attack on Tyrosh. The royal fleet shall form an arrow head formation with Monford commanding the tip, whilst Lord Celtigar commands the left side and Lord Selwyn commands the right. Baratheon commands the Stormlander ships that will form a probing force. The aim, to draw out the Tyroshi fleet and then ensnare them between the stormlander ships and the wider fleet as a whole. Monford is confident that the plan should work and yet he cannot help but feel nervous as they leave the tent and begin preparing for the fighting.

Monford says a quick prayer before boarding his ship the Pride of the Driftmark, and then once on the ship he begins barking commands, getting his crew ready for the battle to come. A horn is sounded and then they begin to set sail, preparing for the eventual fight that they all expect to come. The sun is beginning to set as they reach the middle point between the islands and Tyrosh, waiting, and waiting. If the Tyroshi have any sense or curiosity they shall come out to inspect what is happening, and that is when Monford and his men shall attack. It seems as if they have been waiting for nearly an hour when Monford sees the Fury coming towards them, curious Monford waits to see what happens. And when he sees Stannis Baratheon stood on the deck of his ship, with a man who can only be the Archon in chains, Monford wonders if the world is beginning to change. The Fury comes to a halt and Stannis calls out. “My Lord, I present you Archon Rohan, the Archon of Tyrosh. He and his men came aboard my ship in peaceful surrender. It seems they do not wish to fight anymore.”

Monford nods and then calls out. “Is this true Archon Rohan? Do you wish to surrender?”

The man is silent and then says. “Yes my lord/. But I would prefer to speak to you on the deck of your own ship rather than calling out to each other like some sort of village idiot.”

Monford laughs at that, and orders for the man to be brought aboard, which he is. Once he is on deck Monford looks at him, Archon Rohan has blue hair and violet eyes but the eyes look somewhat blue as well. Supposedly a descendant of Rohanne of Tyrosh from her second marriage, Monford wonders briefly if this man might prove more of an ally than a threat. “So Archon, why did you decide to surrender rather than fight?”

The man is apparently quite conscious of the fact that the whole crew is looking at him and his response is soft. “I did not wish to see my city and people burn in the fighting. We have suffered much for very little reward. I had thought it was time to end that. For so long Tyrosh and Westeros have had a coloured history, why not merely join together to end the threats that we both imagine we pose to one another.”

Monford considers this and then asks. “And what are you proposing? An alliance?”

The man nods. “An alliance between the Iron Throne and Tyrosh. A chance for us to gain mutual advantages through better trade deals and easier access. You already have the Stepstones you control the way through to Tyrosh now from elsewhere.”

Monford looks at the man and then says. “The King shall need to hear the terms of the alliance that you wish to propose. For now though if you are willing we could work together. You would have after all spent a great deal of time working with the rulers of Lys.”

The Archon looks at him then and says. “Yes, I did. What of it?”

“You know of their plans and movements do you not? You would know where they intend to strike. In fact one might wonder if this surrender is not but a ploy with which to lure us into a false sense of security.” Monford explains.

The man laughs then. “Oh I do not wish for the Lyseni to be successful. They are stark raving mad, to believe they could stand against the Iron Throne. But if that is to be the cost of our temporary alliance then I see no harm in telling you everything. Right from the beginning.”


	43. Lord of The Shadows

**8 th Month of 286 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Prince Oberyn Martell**

He had never truly liked King’s Landing, the place was filled with people who seemed far too dishonest to ever truly mean what they said. The stench of lies echoed around the place like some sort of fog, it was as his father was fond of saying. “A stench of treason permanently clinging to a dead body.” And yet he was here serving as master of whispers in the place where Elia and her children had died. Their killers were long dead though, handed over by the man who had given them their orders so that he might profit from the new regime. Oberyn had ensured their deaths would be long, Lorch had squealed like a little girl when the poison had gone into his system begging for the pain to end, Oberyn had not indulged him watching as the man’s skin began to fall away and as his bones began to rot before he eventually died. Clegane was another matter, this was the man whom Oberyn had been told had raped his sister, and this was the man he was determined to kill with his own two hands. In the Dragonpit of King’s Landing whilst men had been fighting in the west, Oberyn had had the man brought out and they had fought. Spear against sword, viper against a mad dog. They had exchanged blows but Oberyn had been slowing the man down, and when he had finally managed to drive his spear into the brute’s exposed neck, he had laughed. The bastard had been lying in death’s arms for three whole weeks before finally dying.

The poison had gone from his system, and this was good for him. Oberyn knew this anger was something that could only be harmful for him in the long term. Dorne had been crying out for justice and it had been achieved somewhat. Tywin Lannister was still alive though, but soon enough he would be dead as well and Oberyn was determined to be the one to end his life. But that was a plan for a later date, right now, Oberyn was merely happy and content to finally have his daughters with him. His little sandsnakes as he called them. Obara the eldest of his girls was nearly a woman grown at fifteen and was a warrior, a fierce one at that as well, Oberyn had to admit he was deeply proud of her and would not want to be someone to face her in the sparring yard. Then there was Nymeria, who at twelve was just as deadly if not more so than her sister was at fifteen, she had the charm and grace that Obara lacked and the skills to go with it. Tyene was a sweetheart truly she was, a true sweetheart, and a clever, clever girl, Oberyn had high hopes for her. Sarella was the bookish one of his daughters always looking for more to do and learn always asking questions. She and the King got along very well if Oberyn remembered correctly and that was something he had not expected. His four daughters were growing up so quickly it was surprising, they were part of King’s Landing now and were some of his most useful informants as they had a way of getting to know things that no one else did. Ellaria, his one true love was a constant source of comfort and support as well, she was his rock and his anchor and he knew not what he would do without her. As for their daughter Elia he already knew she would be a handful. This was his life and why he did what he did as master of whispers, it was why he was meeting with one of his informants now to gather information.

Meeting in the alcoves of the Red Keep’s gardens Oberyn’s informant was tall and willowy, blonde of hair she was beautiful Oberyn knew but he also knew somewhat how to limit his lust for her. “So tell me what news has the man been sharing with you that he has not been telling anyone else?” Oberyn asks.

The woman is silent a moment her green eyes looking around suspecting something or the other and then she said. “He says that the man he is working for is moving forward with his plans. The submission of Tyrosh has thrown his plans into the works and now he is trying to play catch up with something that will not take as quickly as he would like.”

“And did the man specify what these plans are?” Oberyn asks.

The woman nods. “He speaks of a weapon that if unleashed could cause all kinds of chaos in Westeros. A secret held deep within the bowels of the Red Keep that no one, not even the Lord Regent knows of. Something that Aegon the Unworthy buried deep within the keep when Dorne was not part of the realm before the conquest of Dorne. A proof of sorts, an unsettling proof.”

Oberyn looks at the woman and asks her. “Did he specify what this proof was and why it would cause so much damage?”

The woman shakes her head. “He did not specify, but he said it was something that would do the King a lot of harm. A claim that goes back centuries. A rumour as it were, but something with written proof. This proof is something that he places a lot of importance on, and as such he is doing all he can to get to it. That is why he remains within the establishment where I am.”

Oberyn considers this for a moment and then asks. “What more has the man told you? Has he said whom he is working for?”

At this the woman nods and says. “The man who held your position before you. The roots of this man’s organisation are deep and are closely linked with this thing he is looking for. The man has faded from the light recently but is working behind the scenes to bring about the end of the alliance with Tyrosh. Furthermore, the man still has his allies at court who are looking to gain favour.”

“Did the man say whom?” Oberyn asks.

Again the woman nods and responds. “Gaunt, Massey and Bar Emmon are the ones whom he keeps mentioning. Furthermore it is said that Tybolt Lannister was on the man’s pay roll whilst he was here. Working to undermine Tywin Lannister and plant suspicion for many strange occurrences on to the old lion. It seems as if the Lady Gaunt is not as mad as she has made out, our friend says her son is working on her orders and is at court for one reason and one reason only. To bring about the end of the Lion and the Wolf.”

Oberyn runs a hand through his hair then and asks. “Has the man said how he intends to bring this about?”

“Poison, bribes and chance. That is how they intend to do it my prince. Some things are not meant to be said in the open but there is a high chance they might try to bring Staunton into their schemes.” The woman responds.

“Staunton?” Oberyn asks surprised. “Why him? He is one of the most loyal lords the King has.”

“He also has something the men are looking for. The eggs my prince. They are the source of power for some who would see the different dragon in power. They get the eggs they have a symbol. Especially the black one.” The woman responds.

Oberyn groans then. “Gods above not those damnable eggs. Very well, is there more information that you have for me?”

The woman nods. “This comes not from our friend my prince but from another person. Another one of my clients. It seems the High Septon is beginning to lose his patience with the Lord Regent. The faith militant might well be coming back into power in Baelor. It seems the High Septon is considering using force of arms to force the regent to make the king’s faith known to all.”

“He fears the King will worship the old gods. Strange this High Septon did not seem to be like the old one.” Oberyn ponders.

“The old High Septon was not being pressurised by elements of the Faith in Oldtown to ensure that the ways of the seven did not die out. The worship of the Old Gods and the growing presence of northmen worries those of the most devout. There is also something more, my patron knows of a man in the riverlands who has begun spreading the worship of a more basic faith, it is has no title yet, but it does have the old gods on a pedestal. This is another reason why the High Septon seems to be considering armament.” The blond haired beauty said.

Oberyn nods at this he too had been hearing of this new stripped back faith of the seven. “Very well, is there anymore that you need to tell me?”

The woman nods. “Something else came up when I was speaking with my patron. It would seem the High Septon is looking towards what you are doing and is meaning to speak with the Lord Regent about it.”

Oberyn is somewhat taken aback by this and raises an eyebrow in question.

The woman merely says. “This High Septon is not the old one. He is trying to prevent mass desertion from the faith. And you my prince are a perfect example to use.”

With that their meeting ends and Oberyn walks back into the keep whilst the woman goes back to her establishment. So many things to ponder, the most important are the ones he shall tell the Lord Regent. Ser Arthur is guarding the door when Oberyn enters, he gives a slight nod to his cousin and then walks into the room. The Lord Regent is sat there looking over papers and sighing. He looks up though as the door closes and his voice is hard when he speaks. “So my prince, tell me what news you have for me.”

Oberyn sits down and then says. “I have news on what the bastard is doing in the brothel and why he is pushing so hard inside court.” He pauses and the Lord Regent is silent before nodding for him to continue. “He is looking for something, something that will give his master an edge over us. Something from the time of Aegon the Unworthy, that might well prove something or the other about the king and his lineage.”

The regent looks up interested then. “And what sort of thing could this be?”

“I am not sure but I do believe it could well be a letter or a confirmation written by the grand maester of the time. I have heard of such a document existing, when I looked through the old papers, there was a man mentioned who knew something similar.” Oberyn says.

The Lord Regent nod. “Very well, was this man ever found?”

“He was never found at least not in a way that would leave a trace. Any account of what he might or might not know was lost to the archives of history and memory. But the rumours persist. If this paper exists then it could be very damning to the King.” Oberyn says.

The regent nods in understanding and asks. “Where do you believe the thing could be?”

“Somewhere deep within the Red Keep. Where no one has been for a long time. A place where only the deepest and darkest souls have looked and explored in recent memory. Aegon the Unworthy who would have known about such places and would have kept it there. It would have been somewhere he could get to easily enough but somewhere where no one else could get to unless they too knew about it.” Oberyn says.

“The man would’ve had to be accompanied by the Kingsguard. There might be a record of such a thing within white sword tower. Especially amongst the things that once belonged to Terrence Toyne. I shall ask the lord commander to look there.” the regent says.

Oberyn nods. “I shall send my own sources to look within the keep for more information and to see if we can find this thing before the others do. Furthermore, Gaunt, Massey and Bar Emmon are all working for our enemy. It seems he has promised them certain things that they have all long desired.”

The regent nods. “Massey is in the Stepstones right now, is this deliberate?”

“I believe so my lord regent. Massey is an ambitious man and no doubt he hopes to gain some sort of information from Velaryon. After all Redwyne was someone who too was looking to gain something from all of this and he is dead now. Massey is someone who would be most susceptible to the charms to the flies on the wall.” Oberyn responds.

The lord regent sighs and says. “I suppose you are right. He shall have to be dealt with. Now what more do you have for me? Tyrosh will not last for long that much I know, and shall have to be dealt with accordingly. And what of the eggs? I assume they will be wanting them as well.”

Oberyn nods. “Yes my lord regent. They want the eggs but so long as they believe Staunton has them, then they should be safe.”

The regent nods and then says. “There will come a time when we shall need to see if these eggs have any other value than that of symbolism. For there are things coming that we might need them for.”

An ominous thing to say but something that is true nonetheless. Oberyn presses on. “It appears the High Septon is beginning to take note of your man Causter and the trouble he is causing in the Riverlands. It seems he is beginning to think of re arming the faith, in order to force you to publicly announce the king’s faith.”

The regent sighs then. “Of course he would. I should have seen this coming. Your spies in the faith are still ready to do as they are commanded to?” Oberyn nods. “Good for the time shall soon come for this man to be removed as swiftly as possible.”

Oberyn nods taking note mentally. And then he asks. “What of Tywin Lannister?”

The regent sighs once more. “The man must remain alive for some more time. There are plans being put in place that he is essential to. Lys and Tyrosh must have governors once this war is done. And when it is, that is when you shall have you chance.”

Oberyn is not all that satisfied with the explanation but still says. “Very well so long as I am the one who gets to kill the man and no one else. I shall allow him to live a little while longer.”

The regent nods. “Good, for when you do get the chance, I do not want a trace left of him.”


	44. A Far Wind

**10 th Month of 286 A.C. Farwynd Hall**

**Lord Triston Farwynd**

Winter was firmly put, and refused to move. It could been seen in how the snow stubbornly clung to the ground and refused to truly go. The temperatures were damn near Baltic, and as such Triston wondered how anyone could get anything done. And then he would look around his keep and think that was how. Pure determination that was what kept the people of the north going, a desire to not be curtailed by the elements, work continued as normal throughout the winter no matter what weather was thrown their way. His own keep, a simple stone keep had been built and repaired from its near ruined state within two years, using the materials available and the materials that came from the Westerlands. It was nice and homely, if not on the grand scale Sealskin Point had been on. That did not matter to Triston though, all that mattered was that he now had a home to call his own and he did not have to remain within Flint’s Finger for any longer. It was not that he did not appreciate being able to have a roof over his head whilst his own home was being built, it was simply that he and Lady Flint did not get along. She thought him too much of a barbarian and he found her too oppressive. The other northmen seemed to have gotten along with him fine, his exploits in battle seemingly enough to show that he was worthy of their respect and trust.

This was not shown by any outward displays, but rather in silent gestures, as it would have been on the islands. That they had come to his wedding was a big sign of respect. He and Lady Denora Flint had gotten married two days ago, in a simple ceremony in the godswood of the keep and later in the ritual of the Grey King Nereus, where they were doused in water and then said their vows to remain clean and pure and faithful. The lords had cheered and done many a thing during the feast and the ceremony, and many a time had someone come up to him to congratulate him on his marriage and how fortunate he was to be marrying a beauty such as Denora. It was true, Denora with her curly brown hair and her doe eyes was extremely beautiful and whilst that had been one of the things that had drawn him to her, it was also the fact that she was very smart and witty that had really gotten him hooked to her. They could share many a detailed conversation on history and had done so, that she had expressed an interest in the Grey King had only furthered his attraction, it had been at her suggestion that they had married in sight of the Grey King. He truly thought he loved her and he was happy she was his wife.

The Grey King had come to see him once more, in visions that were growing ever more confusing and hard to interpret. Something about an axe and the bears coming south in greater number. It made no sense to him for the Mormonts were the only bears he could think of, and they were the ones he got on the best with out of all the northern lords. And then there was the whole issue with the horned things that the Grey King kept showing him, by the gods he did not know what they were but they terrified him. The Grey King kept whispering that they should terrify him, for they were growing more powerful and the white things that were dead would soon be coming as well. All of this made no sense to him, and he said as much but the Grey King remained silent and only said that he had his role.

Of course pondering over such things would do him no good, especially now he had been asked to meet with Lord Eddard. He found the man in the godswood looking at one of the tress, in silent thought. Though he hated to disturb the man whom he had so much respect for he did so nonetheless clearing his throat and saying. “You wished to speak with me my lord?”

The man blinks once and then turns and says. “Yes my lord I did. Firstly congratulations on your marriage to the Lady Denora. She is a true beauty and will make a good lady.” Triston nods his thanks knowing that this is not what the man is wanting to speak to him about. “Secondly I must speak to you of an issue that Lady Flint herself brought before me. She has been worried over your worship of this Grey King as you call it. She wonders if you are going to try and do as Balon Greyjoy did and try to spread worship.”

Silence follows this statement and then Triston says. “I fear Lady Flint does not like me all that much. I am not the man she wished for her daughter to marry, and yet we are wed. She does not see me as much of a Northman, and in truth I am not. Nor have I ever tried to be one. All I have done is to repay the debt I feel I owe you and your father, for accepting me and not questioning my motives. I hope to be a good lord to the people here and I wish to bring them peace during winter and afterward. I have no intention of converting anyone to the Grey King lest they wish to.”

Lord Eddard nods. “I had thought that the case my lord. And I trust you know that the north thanks you for your efforts in aiding the building of this keep as well as in the building of Wolf’s Port and the western northern fleet. You and Ser Davos have been most invaluable to the construction of all of these things. I merely thought to raise the matter with you so that you were aware of the concerns some might have.”

Triston nods and then says. “I know there has been some murmuring of something occurring at the Wall my lord. I was speaking of it with Robin and Willam during the feast and I was wondering if you knew anything more of it? I do have an uncle, though distant he might be on the wall and was concerned that something might be going wrong there.”

Lord Eddard takes some time to respond and then says. “I know not exactly what is happening at the wall. All I know is what Lord Umber tells me he hears from the tradesmen who go there. There is a lot of talk of strange goings on, but then such talk has often pervaded throughout Lord Commander Qorgyle’s tenure as Lord Commander. I would not think anything of it.”

Triston considers this and then asks. “And what of the sightings of goat’s heads as well as goat skulls lining the way from Castle Black all the way to Last Hearth? No matter how many times Lord Umber removes them from the pathway they always reappear in greater number. Furthermore traders are reporting seeing them in Castle Black as well. We all know the rumours of the man who is Lord Commander. Surely something could be done to remove the man and have him brought in for questioning?”

Lord Eddard is silent, and when he does respond his response is slow as if he is trying to figure out himself was he wishes to say. “I… I do not think that would be such a good idea Triston. The Watch takes no part in the affairs of the realm, and we promise not to take part in their affairs. Jeor Mormont serves on the Wall, and should anything truly pressing arise he will notify Winterfell. As he has not done so, I believe that now is not the time to do anything.”

Triston wishes to push the matter but one look at Lord Eddard’s face tells him that he will not get anywhere on the matter, and so ignoring everything inside of him that is screaming that this is what the Grey King was on about, he instead asks. “Has there been much correspondence between yourself and Lord Rodrik Harlaw my lord?”

At this Lord Eddard’s face goes from torn to guarded but that is just how the man is and so he says. “There has been some communication yes. Mainly discussing the opening of trade routes between our two kingdoms once Wolf’s Port is finished and completed. He has also asked about his nephew Theon fairly regularly, and as such I have given him updates on how the lad is doing.”

Triston nods and then asks. “Has he ever asked about me or said anything about my cousins?”

Eddard is silent and then responds. “He has yes. He says that he regrets what his goodbrother’s actions have cost you and that Sealskin Point has become a memorial for all that was lost due to Greyjoy folly.  Lord Rodrik has asked if you would ever consent to returning to the islands at some point to serve as an ambassador or if you would wish to become the Islands ambassador to the north.”

Triston considers this and then says. “I never wish to return to the Islands ever again. I will not stand for that culture or its principles either. I cannot abide that request my lord. And I would ask that you do not ask it of me. There are some things that should never be opened, some wounds that must not be picked at and this is one of them.”

Lord Eddard merely nods and then says. “I knew something like this would be the case. It was a mere suggestion Triston, but I can understand your reluctance. As to your other question, there has been some mention of the Farwynds of Lonely Light. There has been talk that they are harbouring Euron Greyjoy, though no proof of this has been offered and every time Lord Rodrik sends ravens asking them, they continue to deny it. Soon enough he says, either they will bend and offer the man up or they will not.”

Triston snorts then. “Oh I know this much about my cousins, they will bark and they will deny all knowledge of wrongdoing when it suits them. And then when it all comes to light they shall turn on one another. In the past they used to turn on my own family, it was them that sold the Iron Islands out to Maekar the Mace, and as such it was them who has caused endless streams of grief for us. If anyone has Euron Greyjoy or his sons then it will most definitely be them. Though of course Greyjoy could well be dead, and his sons could be alive.”

His friend and lord nods and says. “Aye that is something we have considered but as the sea next to the Lonely Light is so damn inhospitable, none know the truth of the matter. It is very possible that there is nothing there, but also very possible that there is something there. We shall not know for sure.”

Triston gets an idea then. “Well my lord, the other Ironborn have not been to Lonely Light for they are not as brave as they would admit, but I and my brothers went often to lonely light when we were children. I could go and find out the truth simply enough.”

“I had thought you did not wish to return to the Iron Islands Triston. Besides you are newly married. You and your wife must get to know one another.” Eddard responds.

Triston feels torn, he wants Greyjoy dead but he also wants to know his wife more. “I will do whatever is necessary to end the threat posed by the Greyjoys my lord. Anything.”

Lord Eddard looks at him and says. “Consider it and discuss it with your wife before making any final preparations.”


	45. Most Devout

**12 th Month of 286 A.C. Great Sept of Baelor**

**Septon Maegor**

He had spent his whole life in King’s Landing exploring the various passageways in and out of the Red Keep, and getting to know the court and the people who operated within it. At first he wondered if this was due to his mother’s desire to see him on the throne, or his grandmother’s desire to see him on the throne. And then he realise it was because his uncle Aegon did not know what to do with him, not truly at least. He played with Rhaelle before she went off to Storm’s End and he played with his cousin Duncan’s children, he had even been in love with Duncan’s daughter, but she had died at Summerhall and now there was little left of cousin Duncan’s family. Eventually he had had to leave the Red Keep when his mother had died, and he had joined the Faith.

For most, his joining the Faith was his uncle’s way of removing a potentially difficult nephew, but for him it made the most sense. He would never dream of claiming the throne, and he did not want to marry anyone to cause trouble for his uncle Aegon or his cousins. And so he had joined the Faith at the age of fifteen, becoming a novice training first in Oldtown and then in King’s Landing. It was here that he had come to find his true calling. It was interesting for Maegor to see just how hypocritical the Faith truly was, they preached against sin and avarice and greed, and they too indulged in it all. Whilst he had been but a lowly novice he had been sent to the Stoney Sept to serve as the town’s Septon for a brief period. It was there that he had seen just how confused and broken the people were, and whilst he had tried to bring their plight to King’s Landing, the High Septon dismissed him and his uncle was caught up fighting more wars. From the Stoney Sept he went to Casterly Rock and was amazed at just how greedy and full of sin the court there was, it was shocking, pure and simple. And it began to fuel his desire for change and reform within the Faith. Of course for that he needed power, and to gain power he needed to be on the Most Devout. His chance came when his uncle summoned him to King’s Landing two years before Summerhall. And ever since then he had been in King’s Landing working his way up the order until he could become High Septon and bring about the changes he wished.

The current High Septon was a man prone to lust and greed, by the gods Maegor knew about his bastards who were being passed off as someone else’s. The man was the representation of all that was wrong with the Faith as it was now, corruption and sin were corroding the pure virtues that had brought it to Westeros in the first place. The Seven had become mere symbols for this greed and loss of purpose, and Maegor began wondering if perhaps it was time to change this, to look to the Old Gods and to the Gods of Valyria and see the seven not as one, but as separate deities. Of course the man who was talking such things was a man Maegor knew from his time in the Stoney Sept a very interesting man and someone whom Maegor was going to get in contact with soon enough. Of course, he first had to withstand the barrage that would come from the Most Devout meeting.

The High Septon was a tall man with a big belly, a man who had one been strong and handsome in his youth but had gone to fat in old age. His blond hair was coloured with grey, and his green eyes seemed crinkled. His voice was still strong though. “My brothers and sisters, we are here to discuss some very troubling things that have been threatening the realm and the faith as of late. The first most pressing issue is that of the King and what faith he will be. I have made many overtures to the Lord Regent on this matter, but for so long the man continues to amble up and down about it.”

Septon Borros a man from the Westerlands spoke then. “The Lord Regent must be shown the true way. For too long his heathen ways have dominated the court. They are losing their ground and standing. Soon enough they will realise their follies. We must show them the way.”

The High Septon nodded. “Aye, the regent must be warned of what his actions will cost the kingdoms if not shown the correct path. All kings since Aegon the Dragon have worshipped the Seven, even that barbarian Maegor, and this king should be no different. No one would want a king who worships trees.”

Septon Borros the High Septon’s lackey voiced his agreement. “Most definitely Your Holiness. Most definitely. The Lord Regent has erred grievously in doing as he does. The true way is the faith and he must be shown this.”

The high septon continued. “The threat of the Faith Militant has done nothing to stir the man from his stupor on the matter, and I do believe that says everything about what we have become. For too long we have allowed ourselves to be the pawns of the Targaryens, no longer I say. We must build up our strength. We must do this and we must show the kingdoms we are a force to be reckoned with.”

Septa Uncliff spoke then. “But would that not come into conflict with our message Your Holiness? We all promised to ensure peace and prosperity when the King was crowned, to avoid the abuses under the mad king. Would violence truly be the answer?”

The High Septon looked at the lady and then said. “Sometimes, one must look at the conditions one is in and then decide whether to stick to vows made to a monarch who has not upheld their own vows. The faith is under attack now and it must be defended.”

Septa Uncliff is silent but Septon Dontos takes up the thread. “This man Causter and his followers have begun causing all kinds of trouble in the Riverlands, speaking of this thing and then another. Diverting from the Seven Pointed Star and speaking heresy to suit their own needs. The Lord Regent continues to allow the man to live, and the faith suffers for it.”

Maegor speaks then his voice questioning. “And how does the Faith suffer for it? I have heard no reports of people leaving in great numbers to join this man and his teachings. There are no disciples and no one seems convinced of what he is saying amongst the nobility. They are the true worries we should have. If they convert others will follow.” He knew what he was saying, laying a false trail for the other white sheep in this room.

The High Septon spoke then his tone condescending. “Much and more has changed since you served in the Stoney Sept brother Maegor. The people of the riverlands have been torn by war and are now looking for a way to salvage what little is left of their lives. They do not turn to the Faith, but to this man and his heresy, because of some dire need of association with individualism. It must be stopped, we must not lose the Riverlands.”

“And you think the best way of preventing them from leaving us and joining this new man, is to militarise and renew an organisation that nearly ended us the last time they were in existence? That is the most complete rubbish I have heard in all my years on this great planet.” Maegor counters.

The High Septon looks at him then, and Maegor can briefly see the man he once was, the great warrior and the commander. “The Riverlands were one of the first regions that were converted to the Faith when the Andals came. They are one of the main power bases that we have to counter act the Old Gods. They must not fall, and they must not convert to this new heresy. It is time for us to do what the Seven have asked us to do, and that is defend the true Faith.”

Maegor looks at the man and says. “You would bring more blood and death to the realm simply to settle an issue that could be settled with negotiation with the Lord Regent.”

Septon Borros speaks then his tone thunderous. “The Lord Regent has been offered many chances to change his ways. That he has not done so to this point shows just how unwilling he is to make an effort of reaching an accord. We cannot wait around for the man to come to his senses.”

“And how many will die this time, because of the lust of two Septons. One of whom is supposed to be the leader of the faithful. This will only drive more and more away from the Faith and into the arms of the Old Gods or the Drowned God or even this new faith that this man Causter is spreading. We cannot afford that, if our position is as bad as you say. Doing something as rash and impulsive as fighting the Regent would bring us more doom than anything the Targaryens ever brought when they had dragons.” Maegor counters.

Septon Derry a man who rarely speaks and has been in the Most Devout for some sixty years speaks then. “We are charged with defending the Faith and ensuring that the Targaryens live up to their promise. The Lord Regent has failed to do so, we are under attack. Something must be done to prevent the decline that seems imminent at this moment in time. If it means fighting then that is what must be done.”

Septa Unella speaks then her voice soft. “War for war’s sake must be avoided. And so far it does seem as if this is all it is. You are all talking as if the faith is under threat, I do not agree with that assumption. This Causter man has not once spoken out against us, he is merely saying the things that we ourselves were preaching during the reigns of the mad king, his father and grandfather. It is time we remembered them and brought ourselves back to the true nature of the Faith.”

“You would have us agree with a man who speaks of the Old Gods as the founding race? A man who claims that humans come from beasts? I cannot allow nor abide by that. This man must die and he must pay for the crimes he has committed. Septon Maegor, you knew the riverlands well once upon a time. The Septonry of the kingdom has been vacant since Septon Dorros died. It is time for you to leave King’s Landing and take up that Septonry. Find out what you can about this man Causter and do as you will to remove him and the threat. Peacefully. If you cannot do it, then the faith will re arm.” The High Septon says.

Maegor nods and then the meeting comes to an end, as they walk out of the chambers, Septa Unella pulls him to the side and says. “Be careful brother. This could well be a trap the High Septon and Borros have arranged. They know of your leanings.”

“I assure you, they might believe themselves as clever as they wish, but I have allies and friends as well. There are those who would know if I died, unlike Septon Dorros.” Maegor responds.

Septa Unella nods and then before they go their separate ways says. “When you leave, look for the hanged man brother. There you will find the man whom the High Septon wants gone. It is the only way to spare us this man’s folly.”


	46. Strange Tidings On The Wind

**2 nd Month of 287 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

It was nice to have his son here in King’s Landing, Benjen had proven just how grown he was in the past few moons, helping Rickard out with various things that needed to be sorted with regards to the household, and in turns keeping an eye on Jonothor when the boy needed some sort of familial company. His son was also a much shrewder lad than either of his two elder brothers had been. Benjen had a certain level of cunning and skill with words that both Brandon and Ned lacked. It was interesting to note for Rickard, especially when it came to certain members of the court. It seemed his son had a knack for learning things that no one else, not even Prince Oberyn knew.

His son was demonstrating this right now. “You see Ser Gerion is a man who once he has had a few drinks is liable to talk and give away his family’s secrets particularly his brother’s. I sense that there is a lot of tension there.”

Rickard nods and asks. “What things has the old lion done that we do not know about?”

“He controls the gold cloaks nominally through Manly Stokeworth the man has been bought and paid for by Tywin in an attempt to ensure that the charge is kept within Lannister hands.” Benjen responds.

“And yet Stokeworth continues to report to me everything the Lannister men within the gold cloaks say or do.” Rickard counters.

“A ruse father. The man is laying a false trail for you, so that you do not get the sense of the level of his betrayal. He seems to be wanting both ends of the stick. And he wants the rewards both sides have promised him.” His son says.

Rickard nods and asks. “And what of Gerion himself what part does he have in all of this?”

“He, he is not sure of his role. But it seems he is trying to get into my own good books and through me to you. The lord hand is wanting to play the long game and wait for you to make a mistake before coming in to take control of all the things that are to do with the King.” Benjen states.

Rickard looks at his son impressed. “You learnt all of this from a night’s drinking with Gerion Lannister?” his nods. “I am very proud of you son. You have shown yourself to be very valuable to the family cause here. Your mother tells me that there have been some maidens here expressing an interest in you. I would hear your thoughts on them.”

Though he suspects his son knows that he has changed the subject because of how shocked he is that he did not see this coming, his son does not comment on it and instead looks quite uncomfortable. “I must admit the attentions are flattering but I do not know whether I am truly interested in those giving them.”

“You do not wish to marry a lady from the crownlands?” Rickard asks. When his son nods he goes on. “I can understand why. They are a fickle lot these crownlanders, tied to the throne and constantly wanting to get nearer to it. But surely you would have no objections to marrying Donella Staunton? You two seem to get on quite well.”

His son is silent a moment as if deep in thought before responding. “Lady Donella is very nice and friendly. But I do not see what sort of benefit she would bring to me or our house. Her father is already one of your closest allies, her brother is serving in the city watch and will soon be Lord Commander and her nephew will be one of Jon’s closest friends. Her family has gained enough for Lord Staunton. No I… I do not think I wish to marry a crownlander.”

“If not from this kingdom then from where Benjen? There are few girls of eligible age elsewhere in Westeros. You are soon to be eighteen, your keep is soon to be finished and you shall need to choose a wife soon. You cannot be too slow in your decision, otherwise many and more shall come clamouring for your attention.” Rickard says.

His son sighs. “I know that father, truly I do. Aemma Waynwood is one lady who I have gotten along with quite well since I have been here in King’s Landing. Her brothers Morton and Mark have been of good company to me as well. She is nice, smart and she knows a thing or two about the north. Then there is Melantha Blackwood Lord Tytos’s cousin. She is someone I know well as well.”

Rickard considers these two names and then says. “Waynwood might be smart but her house gives us little, apart from perhaps a check against Jon Arryn. Though that man has done little since the Great Council. As for Melantha Blackwood, I could see the sense in that marriage especially with the troubles with the faith. And what of Serena and Maria Ryder I had thought those two girls were the two you were most interested in?”

Benjen blushes at this and says. “I… I had wanted to marry Serena, but it seems her father is most determined to see her wed to Roger Ryswell so that they might get a chance of getting their own blood in the Rills once more. As for Maria, since the last time he offered her hand in marriage, he has since accepted an offer for her hand from Roderick Flint.”

“If you wish I could write to Lord Rodrik and ask him to delay looking into tying his son to Lord Ryder’s daughter.” Rickard offers.

His son shakes his head. “No I could not do that to Serena. I… I admit that the thought of a northern bride after meeting Lady Catelyn is somewhat against my own notions.”

Rickard laughs then. “It is true, the north has its own attractions but with the game we are playing here, perhaps it would be better if you did have a southern wife.”

His son nods agreement at this. “There is Jocelyn Mallister father. She is Lord Jason’s younger sister, and considering that I am to be Lord on the Western shore it does make sense.”

His father looks at him wondering if perhaps he should ask Benjen to remain in King’s Landing after his stay comes to a close nods and says. “Very well, go and meet with the lady, I shall send word to Lord Jason that you are going to speak of trade agreements. Meet her, court her and find out whether she is amicable to such a marriage.” His son nods and then their meeting comes to an end.

Once his son is gone, Rickard spends some time going over the letters and other correspondence that he has received over the past few weeks. The war with Lys continues and soon enough shall require more men, perhaps the fighting had been premature, but something needed to be done. With Tyrosh firmly onside, and with his cousin Rodrik keeping the magisters of Myr out of the fighting Lys should capitulate within the next few weeks if not sooner. Then there was the talk coming from the wall of the Lord Commander’s practice of dark arts. Of goats heads and sacrifices to evil gods. What to make of such a thing he knew not, he had only met Lord Commander Qorgyle once and that was when the man had been travelling to the wall first. And that had been some thirty years ago when Rickard had been but a young lad trying to deal with his father’s increasing madness. The goat heads were disturbing though, for they brought too many memories of Lord Edwyle and his rants and raves. Gods he thought he had left that all behind….

A knock on the door takes him away from his brooding, and after he calls for whoever it is to come in, he sees Ser Gerold and Prince Oberyn standing in the doorway. He asks for them to both sit down and then asks. “So have you found anything of note Prince Oberyn?”

The Prince looks tired, they all look tired he is sure, this winter has been a hard one and will only continue to be so. “I have found more eggs my lord regent. Buried deep within the passageways of the Red Keep. Eggs dating back to the Dance of Dragons that the Dragonbane attempted to hatch but never succeeded in doing so. I have had them placed under watch. I have also found some suggestions as to where this vault might be, but as of yet have not found it.”

Rickard sighs. “And where do these suggestions suggest the vault might be?”

“Deep within the Red Keep. In places where no man has set foot in since the time of King Daeron the good or perhaps even before then. In a place that has long since been sealed off and forgotten.” The Prince replies.

“Would our enemies know of such a place?” Rickard asks.

The Prince shrugs. “Who can say? The man might know of such a location after all the information that I have on him suggests he knew of the Red Keep’s passageways long before coming to Westeros. It is likely someone in his family informed him of them, in preparation. And then there is the fact that one of Duncan’s children made it to Essos as well.”

“But why would a Prince of the blood’s child help a traitor?” Rickard questions.

“Prince Duncan’s children were not all entirely happy being born outside the line of succession.” Ser Gerold intones. “I remember for it was something Lord Commander Duncan spoke of with some sadness. It appeared Galed and Jaehaeron were the two most determined to see themselves returned to the succession. That the king their grandfather refused to overturn his decision as they got older made them wroth. If I remember correctly Galed fled across the narrow sea. It is likely he told the man of the passageways.”

“What did happen to Prince Duncan’s children?” Rickard asks.

“Some joined the faith, others died young, and Galed fled across the narrow sea. None know what happened to Jaehaeron, for he simply disappeared from sight and view as the years progressed. He was at Summerhall, but his body was never found.” Ser Gerold says.

Rickard runs a hand through his hair then and says. “We must find that vault quickly before that damnable man does. We must find what is inside it and we must destroy it. We cannot allow the man to get his hands on that information.”

The Prince nods. “I understand my lord regent and have been making the most effort to get towards where I believe it to be. There are some things that I found in the eunuch’s old rooms which have given me hints as to where it could well be. There are legends that speak of it, and as such using the two has gotten me somewhat nearer.”

Rickard looks at the Prince and says. “Legends are not good enough. The fate of the kingdom hinges on this discovery. We must find it before anyone else does. And if Tywin Lannister discovers what needs to be done, remove him.”

The Prince nods and then Ser Gerold speaks. “If you wish my lord regent I could ask for one of the sworn brothers to aid in looking.”

Rickard shakes his head. “Whilst the suggestion is well meant I must decline Lord Commander. We must keep the king protected at all times. As soon as Ser Rolland and Ser Jon are back from Lys they shall resume their duties. Now more so than ever the king must be protected.” With that he finishes the meeting and dismisses both men.

Once they have stood up and left, he rubs his eyes, takes a sip of water and then says. “You can come out of the shadows now.” And so the lights dim and the creature of his nightmare comes forward.


	47. Golden Hand

**4 th Month of 287 A.C. Casterly Rock**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

He truly did not miss living in King’s Landing or the Red Keep. Being away from the secrets and the treachery was good for him, he no longer felt as if he was contaminating himself in the base deceit that was second nature to so many people at court. Casterly Rock was a much purer environment filled with people who genuinely cared for one another and were more than willing to see the good of the people put before some vague concept. It was refreshing for Jaime and not having the confines of the Kingsguard vows had allowed him to truly feel as if he were living up to his knightly vows. Going around the Westerlands speaking with the smallfolk and then lords discussing their issues and their concerns and doing his part to rectify them had given him a sense of true purpose.

It helped he supposed that being back at the Rock meant that he was with his family. Tyrion was nearly a man grown and was a fountain of knowledge and wit, someone whom Jaime relied on somewhat to aid him in the more mundane matters of life at the Rock. His brother truly did have a head for numbers and politics. Ashara was also a great help for Jaime, he was his rock, someone whom he could share his deepest darkest fears and worries with and someone with whom he could share the joys of life with. She was his everything, he truly felt love with her, not the poison that he had felt with Cersei. Their son Arthur was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With his dark brown hair and green eyes, he was like an treasure, and Jaime intended to make sure that his son never knew any of the worries or fears that he had as a child. Arthur would know just how loved he was from the very beginning.

That was why the news that his goodbrother and his former mentor had brought from the capital was so worrying. “The Lord Regent wishes for our son to come to King’s Landing? But why?” Jaime asks.

Ser Arthur looks at him and then says. “He wishes for the King to know his future Lord Paramounts. To foster better relations between the crown and the different kingdoms. To prevent something like the rebellion happening again.”

Jaime and Ashara share a look and then Jaime says. “I can understand that reasoning. But must our son go to King’s Landing now? He is but a few moons old and I would rather he know his family first.”

Ser Arthur nods. “The Lord Regent understands that. That is why he is merely asking that your son come to King’s Landing when he is around eight namedays old. Thus giving you the perfect chance to spend some time with your son and for there to be a chance for the King to get to know the future Lord of the Rock as well.”

Jaime looks at his wife and Ashara speaks then. “But is such a thing necessary? Our son will always be loyal to the throne. As will we, the Lord Regent and the King do not need to fear us causing any trouble.”

There is genuine fear in his wife’s voice and Jaime takes her hand trying to soothe her, whilst her brother responds. “It is not a case of your son being used as a tool against you Ashara. The Lord Regent merely wishes for his grandson the King to know some children his own age.”

Ashara speaks once more. “And yet there are plenty of people that are of age with the king who are already at court. Loras Tyrell, Jasper Arryn and many more according to the letters you yourself have sent. Why does the Lord Regent wish for our son to go as well? What purpose could it serve?”

Jaime looks at Ser Arthur, and sees that the sword of the morning is growing impatient with Ashara’s questioning. Still the man speaks in response. “As I said Ashara, the Lord Regent merely wishes for the king to have some company and your son will be future heir of the Rock. It does make sense for him to come to King’s Landing to know his king. Not now but in the future.”

Arthur looks at him imploringly and Jaime speaks up. “It does make sense Ashara my love. Our son would know the king and might become friends with him. That means there is less suspicion cast on us regardless on whatever my father does. It is a way to ensure we are safe. Furthermore, I was a squire at the age of eight. It will be good for our son.”

His wife looks at him somewhat pleadingly as well. “But, eight is so young. And I still do not see the point in sending him then as the King already has companions.”

Jaime looks at his goodbrother then and can see that there is something close to exasperation on his face. He quickly speaks up. “We still have time to think on the matter do we not Ser Arthur? The Lord Regent is not expecting an immediate response is he?”

Thankfully his goodbrother nods. “Yes you do Ser Jaime. The Lord Regent will only expect an answer by the end of the moon.”

Jaime nods gratefully and then asks his goodbrother. “Now I believe you spoke of bringing us tidings from court and elsewhere as well. We would hear them.” He squeezes his wife’s hand then.

Ser Arthur takes up the thread of the conversation then and says.  “Yes, there has been good tidings from King’s Landing with regards to the war for the Stepstones. The islands have been brought under control of the throne. Tyrosh has joined an alliance with the throne to ensure better trading links and to control any possible aggression from Myr. Whilst Lys has become a protectorate under the protection of the throne as well. It seems the Lord Regent is looking to increase the Iron Throne’s presence in Essos.”

Ashara speaks then her voice somewhat calmer. “That is good. At least it means there is less risk of pirates plaguing the eastern coasts now. Though I do wonder where the Lord Regent’s ambition shall go next.”

Ser Arthur looks somewhat uncomfortable at the question and Jaime suspects the man knows something. Not wanting the silence that has come about to last longer Jaime asks a question he has been wanting to know the answer to. “How have Ser Mark, Ser Rolland and Ser Jon been doing as sworn brothers Ser Arthur?”

His former sworn brother looks at him with an expression bordering on amusement. “They have all done well. Ser Mark is a fine swordsman and a great knight. Whilst Ser Rolland and Ser Jon earned much acclaim for themselves fighting in the Stepstones and in Lys. They are all good swordsmen and deserving of the white cloak.” A silence follows this and then Ser Arthur stretches and says. “Forgive me, but the journey was long and tiring and I fear I have not quite managed to recover from fatigue.” He stands then and Jaime calls for Ser Belladhor to show his former mentor to his rooms.

Once his former mentor is out of the room Ashara turns to him and says. “You cannot be seriously considering sending our son to King’s Landing? I had thought you were against such a thing?”

Jaime sighs and says softly. “I do not know anymore Ashara my love. On the one hand I do not want our son to grow up in the snake pit, but on the other I can see the benefits of having our son be friends with the king.”

“And what if he is not friends with the king? Then he will be all alone and friendless in a place far from home. Would you want such a fate for our child” his wife asks.

Jaime runs a hand through his hair then and sighs. A knock on the door signals the arrival of his sister and her husband, whom had been pestering Jaime to meet with them over some matter or the other. He calls for them to enter, kisses his wife’s hand and then asks his sister who looks beautiful as always and her cunt of a husband with his black hair and green eyes to sit down. “You asked to meet with myself and my wife. I would hear what you wish to speak of.”

His sister speaks first leaning forward exposing the top of her dress. “We wish to speak of the matter of Castamere and Lannisport.”

Jaime sighs. “Not this matter again. Cersei, for the last time, the Lord Regent made it clear that you and your husband are to live in Castamere. It has been redone and is perfectly liveable that you have stayed at the Rock since your son’s birth is somewhat excusable. But now that you have been deemed fit to travel I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

His goodbrother speaks then his voice soft as silk. “But Ser Jaime, that then leaves Lannisport without a defender. And considering that the position has not been left vacant since the times of Lord Jason Lannister, surely that must be a concern.”

Jaime sighs then and says. “Ser Gerion has been named to that position by myself with consent from Lord Tywin. There is no need for you to be overly concerned with the place. Your duty is to make Castamere a castle and a place to live again.”

His sister speaks then her tone angry. “You are a fool if you believe uncle Gerion will hold Lannisport better than Tybolt could. Our uncle has not the patience for such things, he would rather go sailing than do anything worthwhile. If it were Uncle Kevan I could understand but Uncle Kevan died with the Ironborn and uncle Tygett is dealing with his issues at Feastfires. Tybolt is the only one suitable for the role.”

Jaime is surprised by just how calm Ashara is being in all of this, usually she would be clawing at Cersei. But her thoughts seem to be elsewhere and Jaime merely says. “Orders are orders. You and Tybolt are to go to Castamere and Uncle Gerion will take command of the city. Perhaps he will do a better job than your own father did Tybolt.”

The insult is unintentional but the man bristles all the same. “My father died doing what he was tasked with doing Jaime. Whilst you broke the only vow you ever swore that meant anything.”

Jaime looks at the man anger showing through in his eyes and in his speech. “I have made other vows since then have upheld them all. Regardless Aerys was a mad man who would have turned us all to ash had I not done what I did. Now either speak of something else or leave.”

A silence follows that and then his sister speaks. “We were wondering if you would consider sending Arthur to foster with us at Castamere. It would do well for him to know his cousin Joffrey, and to strengthen family ties.”

Jaime is about to respond when Ashara speaks then her tone biting. “No, absolutely not. I will not allow my son away from his home so that you might corrupt his mind Cersei. Arthur remains here, and if anything your son should come here as is only proper.”

Cersei’s lip curls in disgust then. “Pathetic. It would do your son as heir to the Rock good to know his future bannermen. Especially as we shall be his most important one. Not giving him that opportunity would be a crime and something father would not approve of.”

“Your father was many things but I do not think anyone would say some of his moves did you any good Cersei. Robert Baratheon being the prime example.” His wife snaps back.

Cersei looks as if she has been slapped and in the midst of her sputtering Jaime looks at his goodbrother and says. “I think you should take my sister back to your chambers Lord Tybolt and remember what I said.”

The man nods and helps Cersei stand but before they leave she looks at him and Ashara and snarls. “You shall know the true wrath of a lion before I am gone.”


	48. Communication Black Watch

**6 th month of 287 A.C. Castle Black**

**Eddard Stark**

It was strange to be here at Castle Black, he had only been to the wall once before. When he was very young his father had come with him and his brother Brandon to speak with Lord Commander Donnor Snow about some issue or the other, Ned could not remember much of the visit, for it had been before he had been to the Eyrie, but he remembered being awed by the sight of the Wall. That same feeling he had had as a little boy was present now as well, the Wall truly was a magnificent structure, and the organisation that held it, though there was honour in it was not as truly magnificent as it had once been. That was why Ned was here, to deal with the issues presented before him.

Coming north had meant leaving his wife and their children behind. Something he had not been too willing to do, but something that had had to be done. He and Catelyn had developed strong feelings for one another, that much was clear, there was affection and fondness between them and a shared love for their children. There was also something more there, but what it was Ned was not sure he knew what to call it, nor what it truly was, but he knew that he dreamed of her often and missed her something fierce. He also missed his children, Robb his eldest and heir who was such a ball of curiosity who always wanted to know what was happening and why certain things were the way they were. Then there was Rickon, who reminded him even at this young age of his older brother Brandon in his fierce nature and strong personality, he was certainly going to be trouble in the years to come. Finally there was baby Sansa who was as sweet as a babe could be, gods he missed them all. He truly wished to get this business with the Watch over and done with.

But it seemed that this business at the Wall was not going to come to an end anytime soon. Word had come from Jeor Mormont and from Denys Mallister asking for assistance in dealing with Lord Commander Qorgyle who had descended into some sort of madness. Carrying out strange rituals at Castle Black and elsewhere, and the increasing presence of goat heads and goat skulls which unnerved many in the Watch. Ned had ridden north with men from Winterfell and Cerwyn as well as with Lord Jon Umber and some men from Last Hearth to find out the truth of the matter and right now was wondering what the watch had become. “Lord Commander Qorgyle would you care to explain what has been happening here?” Ned asked.

Qorgyle was a short man with broad shoulders and a formerly strong personality that seemed to have lowered in his time at the wall. His voice was delirious when he said. “I have been giving homage to our god. The true god, the one who will save us when the darkness comes.”

“And what god is that Lord Commander?” Ned asks.

“The only god that matters. The Horned God. He who stalks the prey and catches the night in his horns and ends the threat of death. He demands homage and so I give it to him to prevent the darkness from coming.” The Lord Commander responds.

Ned looks at Lord Umber and at Jeor and then asks. “And why does this sacrifice entail giving up goats?”

“Because they are the Horned One’s special creatures. They are the animals through which his energy grows. His magic and power comes from their blood. It is the right way to bring about the end of the heathens.” Qorgyle responds.

“Heathens?” Ned asks. “What heathens?”

“The heathens of the south. With their seven gods. They have forgotten the true way. They shall be burnt and broken when the Horned King comes down from his wintery palace to bring the world to rights. The darkness shall know no beginning or end.” Qorgyle says.

Ned looks at his companions then and asks. “And what of the Watch itself? What of the orders you have given?”

The man is silent then and his voice is questioning when he says. “Orders? I gave no orders. I have not the power to give orders. Only the Horned King can give orders.”

Ned looks at Jeor then who merely nods his head. “You gave orders for boys and girls to be brought from Mole’s Town and led to the altar for slaughter. You did not say what it was for but it has been done somewhat. Who asked you to do that? Was it the Horned King?” Ned asks.

The man looks stunned his eyes growing wide for a moment. “Altar? Sacrifice? There is no sacrifice at Castle Black. We do not allow such things not since the Night’s King. Not since the time where darkness ruled the land did we do such things.”

Ned looks at Lord Umber and then says softly. “Sacrifices have been committed here Lord Commander. A woman named Rosella came south to warn us of this. What has been happening?”

“I….” the man pauses and then something inside of him changes and his eyes narrow his voice becomes harsh. “I have done what is needed to ensure he can come back. The darkness must not come again. But night must fall, the horned king has assured me of this. He must come back and rule this land again.”

“Why is that?” Ned asks. “Is your duty not to prevent the darkness from returning?”

The man’s eyes are bloodshot now when he looks at Ned. “Darkness is one thing, but night is another. There are two things that we must remember Stark. One is good, the other bad. The dance has come again and soon death will come with blue eyes, with skin as cold as ice. Death shall walk amongst us. I am merely preparing for the time when we must welcome our saviours to the hell we have created.”

His words make no sense but before Ned can ask him anymore the man slumps forward and falls asleep. Jeor speaks then his voice gruff. “Leave him be, he shall sleep for a while yet.” With that the man’s steward and another man from the Watch known as Bowen Marsh stand guard outside the man’s chambers, whilst Ned and Lord Umber as well as Jeor and Ser Denys walk out of the man’s rooms and towards Maester Aemon’s chambers. Jeor speaks first. “You saw how broken he is. He is not the man he once was and this talk of horned things and death is unnerving.”

“What does he mean by it all?” Ned asks.

“I do not know my lord, no one does. But it is clear he must be removed. The Watch is falling into disrepair.” Jeor responds.

Ser Denys nods in agreement. “Aye that is true my lords. With Qorgyle’s madness growing, the wildlings have grown in their boldness and are more frequently trying to raid and get across the wall. We do not have the numbers to begin counter acting all their attempts. Qorgyle must go and a new election must be held.”

Ned nods. “Aye. But a new Lord Commander is only chosen when the previous one has died. That has always been the law, and there is no honour in removing a man from his post because of some simple ramblings. Besides the man did not know of his orders. How do we know that he gave them?”

Jeor speaks then. “He gave them alright and his steward and others carried them out. The Watch is falling Ned. We do not have the strength to break through this madness without your aid. Winterfell has always aided us in our time of need, and as heir to the north you have the authority to state that the Watch is not living to its requirement.”

Ned looks at the former lord of Bear Island and asks. “Is there such a thing?”

Ser Denys speaks. “There is my lord. Maester Aemon found the document, it dates back to the time of King Jonos Stark. It states that in the event of the Lord Commander failing to live up the vows he has sworn, and should his fellow sworn brothers feel he has become incapable of carrying out his duties due to illness or what not they may ask for assistance from Winterfell.”

Ned ponders this and then says. “If I were to demand an election when would it be held?”

“Soon enough. As soon as Qorgyle has been removed.” Jeor says.

Ned nods and then says. “I shall have to write to my father on the matter but, yes I do think it is necessary for there to be an election.”

They come to Maester Aemon’s rooms then and find the old maester sat at his chair reading through some letter or the other. He speaks softly when the door closes. “So you have met Arman then?”

“Yes Maester they have.” Jeor says a tone of respect in his voice.

The maester nods and then says. “A shame, for Arman truly was a brilliant man in his youth. This madness has taken over his blood as it did his father before him. There is something wrong with them. But this horned one is what is troubling me.”

“There is an actual horned one?” Ned asks curious.

“Rumours and stories abound from the free folk. Of things half men half animal that roam the lands furthest north of the wall. How true they are we know not, but this talk is making me wonder if perhaps there is more credence to them. Still we must remove Arman from the Commander’s position before something worse happens.” The maester says.

“You think the man could try to do as the Night’s King did and turn the watch into something it was not meant to be?” Ned asks.

“I think he is already trying to do that. Intentionally or not, it is beginning and someone must needs reverse it.” The maester responds.

Ned sighs then and then turning to Jeor and Ser Denys says. “Have your men place the Lord Commander in the Ice Cells it is time for this election be held. We cannot delay.”

Both men nod and over the next few hours Qorgyle is imprisoned, Ned informs his own men and those of Lord Umber’s that they shall be remaining here for a bit longer than intended. Three candidates emerge for the position of Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont an experienced man, Ser Denys Mallister an affable fellow but whether he could hold the Wall now is something Ned doubts and then there is Ser Bowen Marsh a man who is more sneak then Lord. The election goes on for three days straight, with no clear winner in sight, until the fourth day when Jeor Mormont emerges with a clear majority and is chosen as the 997th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. A good choice as far as Ned is concerned and someone who will be easy to work with.

It is when he has just finished speaking with Jeor about increasing trade between Winterfell and the Watch that Ned hears something. A rustling, a gust of wind he is not sure what it is but it unnerves him. He keeps walking back to his own rooms, he nods at the Greatjon who is drinking with his brothers and cousins, and as he is about to step foot into the King’s Tower he hears the sound again. He turns around but there is nothing there. Sighing he walks into the tower and walks up the stairs to his room, where he shuts the door and begins to close his eyes when the sound comes back. His eyes fly open and he finds himself staring at a thing with the horns of a goat and a body of a man. Its eyes are blood red  and its breath is that of blood. There is one word it says. “Qorgyle.” And then in a blink of an eye it is gone, and Ned can hear the shouts and the cries of the men. When he walks out Jeor is standing there looking at the body on the ground that has had its neck torn open. Ned recognises the man as Arman Qorgyle the former commander of the Night’s Watch.


	49. Member of the Old Guard

**8 th Month of 287 A.C. The Red Keep**

**Ser Gerold Hightower**

He had been in the Kingsguard for close to forty years now, joining during the reign of King Aegon the fortunate, the fifth of his name. Ser Duncan the Tall his mentor and hero had given him his white cloak and named him to the position made vacant by Ser Donnel of Duskendale. The Kingsguard then was of a different nature to the Kingsguard that Gerold currently served in, the knights that made up the Kingsguard were men of the old way, knights who stuck rigidly to their Kingsguard vows and had no reason to question them for the king was good and just. Ser Duncan the Tall was their commander and there was none better than him, a true knight he was. There was the Goldenheart whose name was etched into history, his duel with Lord Lothar Bracken was the stuff of legends, and then there was Ser Rupert Crabb a strong man and giant amongst men. Those were the times when life was simpler when an order could be given and followed with little question asked. And then Aerys had come to the throne and the lines had gotten muddled. Gerold held no resentment for his former sworn brothers who were dead now, Ser Jonothor and Prince Lewyn had been true white knights, and the king they had served had been corrupt. This current crop of white knights was perhaps the finest Gerold had known, they were good and true and were determined to ensure the King’s safety first and foremost.

This dedication was necessary, for there was much that the king needed to be protected from being a little child. The white book recorded the follies that had become of the Kingsguard during the regency of King Aegon the Dragonbane and it did not paint a good image. Gerold was determined to avoid such things and as such used the contacts he and Oswell had gathered during their time in the Kingsguard to keep watch on the various nobles of court including the Lord Regent and the Hand. The Lord Regent was a decent enough man even if he did scheme with the best of them, he had his grandson the king’s best interests at heart, and considering how close they had come to seeing the King die, it was best that such a man was in charge. As for the Hand, Gerold had never trusted Tywin Lannister, there was something about the man that made Gerold want to curl his hand into a fist and break the man’s jaw. He did not know what it was but he inherently disliked the man. That they had uncovered several of his plots was even more worrying, he hoped that the regent would remove the man soon.

Right now though Gerold had to push such thoughts from his mind, as he was walking down passageways he had not known existed in the Red Keep looking for the secret vault of the Targaryens built by Maegor the Cruel, to keep the deepest most darkest of secrets of the royal family. Prince Oberyn had sent men down here previously but none had returned getting lost in the passageways, though Gerold suspected he knew the true reason why none had come back, for he had found bodies lying on the pathways as he had descended deeper into the Red Keep. Someone else was clearly looking for this vault as well, making this mission of Gerold’s doubly important. As he walked down the pathways the torch he was carrying made the shadows seem like dragons, it would be intimidating if he did not know the Targaryen fascination with making everything they owned to be about the dragons. There was something in that connection, something more than just a bond.

He continued walking down the pathway, turning right then left, following the rough map Prince Oberyn had drawn showing where he thought the vault would be. If the Prince was right, this was just below the rooms where the king would sleep when he was a man grown. It made sense, to provide quick access to whatever might be within the vault. And yet no one had known of the Vault since King Aegon the Unworthy’s time and so Gerold wondered how it had become lost to memory. He continued walking, following the trail of blood that seemed to be coming from the bodies strewn across the pathway, the blood curiously enough was not flowing down from the bodies, but was flowing upward as if forming a path.

This oddity was still pressing itself in Gerold’s mind when he came face to face with a big black dragon staring right at him. Gerold’s heart nearly leapt out of his mouth until he realised this was just a statue, or he bloody well hoped it was. He looked at the dragon which seemed to be a model of what the Black dread was supposed to look like and then walked through the gap that the thing left, and found himself face to face with a door, the lock of which appeared to be falling off. Wondering how he was going to open the door and not get locked in, he stood there staring at the thing for a long, long time, until something King Jaehaerys said came back to him. “My ancestors were many things proud, boastful and very often brash. But there was one man whose brains were somewhat stronger than others and he build the doorway to something long since forgotten. A turn and a knock and one would enter with their soul intact.”

Gerold stared at the door a long moment wondering if this could be the thing that King Jaehaerys had been prone to mention in his final days. Eventually he decided that the only way to know was to try it, so he extended his hand towards the lock and turned it once, whilst bringing his other hand up to knock on the door. Nothing happened, and for a moment he thought to give up, and then he heard a creaking and suddenly he was thrown against the door and it flew open. As he staggered through the door, he saw golden cups, and crowns and dragon skulls. He blinked furiously, wondering if he had found the way into the treasury, until he saw a stash of swords and weapons that were mentioned only in legend. Eggs were there as well, ones with black, red, and silver colouring. Ones of blue, yellow and gold. Was this the vault? The legendary vault, and if so where was the letter?

He walked around the room growing more and more convinced that this was the vault of legend, where the Targaryens of old kept their deepest and darkest secrets. Proof of this he found in the scrolls of Queen Visenya Targaryen where she talked about how the end of King Aenys had come about, in the writings of King Aegon the Dragon and his musings on Dorne, and the famous letter that Princess Deria had delivered to King Aegon from her father had brought peace with Dorne, reading that letter made Gerold shudder and wonder what the great king had felt when he read it himself. There were many other countless objects and letters here that had caused no end of controversy for the royal family over the years, but the one letter Gerold was looking for he could not find and it was beginning to drive him more than a little bit mad.

As he continued to explore the vault, a song an old song, he sees the dragon eggs and the crowns and the countless weapons of Targaryens of old and he wonders how no one else has found this room before him. How it became lost is a mystery to him, but he does wonder whether it was ever truly lost. He continues walking around the vault looking through it and wondering where this letter could be, he walks passed many things that seem to have come from the Dance of Dragons, children’s clothes, crowns, a jewel that looks like it once fitted into an eye. The search continues and to Gerold it feels as if he is walking through a generation of Targaryens, maps and scrolls from the time of Daeron the Young Dragon to Viserys the wise are in the shelves that he sees, but still no sign of this one particular letter.

Just as he is about to give up hope he sees a seal, a golden three headed dragon crossed with a black three headed dragon and he feels his heart begin to beat a bit faster, he walks over to where the seal is and picks it up off the shelf. He looks at the seal, and then is about to pocket it when he hears a voice behind him says. “You are going to want to give that to me Lord Commander.”

Gerold holds onto the scroll and turns around slowly, he cannot see the man’s face but he knows his voice. “Lord Massey this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lord Errol Massey is a thin man, a reed really but he is cunning and quick with a sword, Gerold knows should it come to it he will have to be careful. “Give me the scroll Ser Gerold and we do not need to take this further.”

“The scroll?” Gerold asks, then faking wonder he holds up the scroll in his hand and says. “Oh you mean this scroll? Why ever would you want that?”

“A friend of mine wishes to have that scroll. It is his by rights.” The man responds.

Gerold can tell that he is nervous by the way his words come out. Gerold himself is somewhat nervous but years of experience have enabled him to hide the nerves somewhat better than Massey. “And whom is this friend that has asked you to go sneaking and crawling around the Red Keep? Is it the eunuch?”

“That is none of your concern.” The man says though Gerold noticed the twitch when the eunuch was mentioned.

“Oh but as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard it is my concern. You see, the eunuch is a traitor and an enemy to the throne. Therefore anyone who is working for or with him, is also an enemy and must be dealt with. Now tell me who are you working for?” Gerold responds.

The Lord of Stonedance visibly twitches, his voice is wavering. “I repeat that is not of your concern.” He goes to draw his sword and says. “Now give me the scroll or die.”

Gerold looks at this reedy man and says in his most commanding voice. “No one needs to die now my lord. Simply tell me who it is you are working for and we can work together to prevent him from doing whatever it is he threatened you with.”

The man wavers then and Gerold hopes against hope that he is going to cave but then his voice comes out again. “You cannot help me. No one can help me. Not against what he has against me.”

“What does he have on you my lord? What has made you turn from the light?” Gerold asks softly.

“He has information on certain things that I have done which I am not proud of Ser. He knows my role in the conspiracy against the throne and he is using that to bring me down to his side. He also holds my sister and her children hostage in Pentos. I….I must get the scroll to him so that he can release them.” Massey says.

“I am afraid I cannot give you this scroll my lord. It is of paramount importance that the Lord Regent gets it, so you must stand down.” Gerold responds.

The man before him pulls down his hood then and Gerold nearly recoils at the scarring on the man’s face. Something clearly happened to him on his return from Lys. His voice is harsh when he speaks. “Give me the scroll Ser, or I shall have to fight you and kill you. I might not be as strong as you are, but I am certainly quicker.”

Gerold sighs then. “I cannot give you the scroll my lord, even if I wanted to I could not. And now unless you move aside you shall perish.”

The man draws his sword then and Gerold draws his own sword, they advance towards one another seizing one another up looking for weaknesses, and just as Gerold thinks to make the first move Massey lunges forward. He certainly is quick, Gerold just about manages to get his sword up in time to block the man’s sword, their swords creaking against one another. Gerold is old, but he is not so old that he cannot use his strength to force the other man’s sword off of his. He does so and then begins his own barrage of attacks against Massey. He slashes, and hits the man’s skin, he cuts, and begins opening up new cuts on top of the old ones. For all that he is quick, Massey clearly has not been able to practice for some time, his movements are rusty and sloppy, Gerold is easily able to defend or block or even counteract them. He pummels Massey into the ground, before raising his sword in the air.

Before he brings his sword down to end the man Massey asks. “Will you ensure my family are safe Ser?”

Gerold hesitates for a moment and then responds. “Aye.” The man merely nods then and closes his eyes as Gerold brings his sword down and slices the man in half. His sword is stained red with blood but he still must get the scroll and leave before someone else comes down. He grabs the scroll and as he does so he sees a spider scampering away.


	50. Brother Wolf

**12 th Month of 287 A.C. Winterfell**

**Benjen Stark**

To be back in Winterfell was nice, it had taken sometime but he was finally back. Seagard had been an interesting sojourn. The place was brimming with activity, filled with tradesmen and workmen determined to do their craft and earn their keep. Even in the middle of winter, they were working from sunrise to sunset making their purses fill to the brim and constantly doing something. That was the one thing that Benjen had enjoyed about Seagard, the people never seemed to stay still there was always something to do, or someone to see. He found that he enjoyed the place and was thankful that he had managed to get a lot of things done, he had sorted out trade contracts for timber and silver between the two places. He felt as if he had fulfilled his obligation which he had done, and he had also had a lot of fun in the place. He had gone around with Jeffory Mallister drinking and wenching, Lord Mallister’s brother had also given him some useful instructions on how to get to know Jocelyn Mallister and to woo her as well.

Jocelyn Mallister was an interesting woman, she was slightly older than him, she was a strong woman, someone who knew how to speak for herself and knew things that would make a maester blush with shame. She was definitely a smart woman, and Benjen had found himself having many engaging conversations with her, in some ways Jocelyn reminded him of Lyanna in how strong and determined she was in sticking to her ways and what she believed to be right and wrong. Their conversations had developed into something more over the time that he had spent in Seagard, from being merely acquaintances they had become friends and from there something more had bloomed. Whether or not he was in love with her he knew not, but he did know that he found her attractive, and who would not with her chestnut hair and her beautiful eyes and pale skin. She was smart and beautiful, and he was deeply fond of her, and she was of him, at least it seemed that way. He had asked her cousin for her hand and when Jason Mallister had accepted, Benjen had then gone to Jocelyn and asked her, and he had honestly been quite relieved as well as happy when she had said yes. They had gotten married in the Sept of Seagard with his father present as well.

Their journey to Winterfell had be pleasant, travelling by land from Seagard they had stopped at several places and explored the sights around the Riverlands. Stopping at the twins had been an interesting experience to say the least, it seemed Walder Frey was finally on his last legs, and was growing more and more irate with age. He had made several japes that had been in poor taste and Benjen had made note to ensure that the man did not survive for much longer. From the twins they had travelled long and hard and had finally arrived in Winterfell some three days ago, before their arrival, Jocelyn had told him the good news that she was with child. His happiness at this news was consuming, for once it seemed he was making up for the mistakes he had made with Lyanna. His past was being wiped clean.

And now it was time for his conversation with Ned, a conversation he had been looking forward to for some time. As always Ned took some time to speak once they had sat down, when he did his voice sounded tired, as if the weight of holding Winterfell in their father’s absence was beginning to weigh on him. “Benjen, as always I am glad to see you back home, safe and secure. I have heard many a good tale of what you managed to achieve in Seagard, you have done House Stark and the north proud. Trade between us and the Riverlands shall flourish in the years to come because of your efforts. That you are now also married is something of a surprise but a welcome one, and I congratulate you on that.”

His brother paused then and Benjen took that moment to speak. “I thank you Ned, and before we go on I wished to say that there is more good news. Jocelyn informed me before we returned to Winterfell that she is with child. I am to be a father.”

Silence follows his statement, as Ned looks at him and then his brother gives one of his too infrequent smiles and raises his glass. “Well congratulates again brother. To you, Lady Jocelyn and your unborn child. I am sure you will make a great father.” Benjen raises his glass as well and drinks, once they have both put their drinks down, Ned continues. “There is one main issue that I wished to speak with you of. It concerns Wolf’s Port, the town that you shall be Lord of when all is said and done.”

Benjen nods and asks. “How goes the construction of the town? When last we corresponded it was some two quarters of the way complete. Is that still the case?”

“Word has come from Ser Davos and Ser Wendel, the keep is complete and should be liveable. The town and the port itself is some three quarters down to the original specifications that we had planned. So realistically if you wish to move to the keep now you may, but if you wish to wait until the town is complete then I shall not stop you.” Ned responds.

“Progress has come on quite some way then in the time I have been gone. Ser Davos and Ser Wendel have truly done their jobs to perfection. How depleted are our resources with the completion of the keep and the town?” Benjen asks.

Benjen sees his brother look down at the note before him before he looks up and responds. “Let us just say we shall need to wait for another decade or so before we can use as much wood as we have done in the past three years. As to the matter at hand, what will you do Benjen?”

Benjen considers his brother’s words for a long time, and in that time the silence stretches on as it was like to do between him and Ned. Eventually after weighing everything up he responds. “I would like to see the keep and the town before I make a decision Ned. Ultimately my family and I will live there, so I would like to get a firmer understanding of the place before committing to living there. For the time being we shall live in Winterfell, but once I have seen the town and the keep, and am satisfied, as I am sure I shall be, we shall move there.”

His brother nods. “Very well. Now let us move from the seriousness of that, to more light hearted matters. How are father, mother and King Jonothor doing?”

Benjen smiles then. “They are all well, mother and father are revelling in King’s Landing and the opportunities it presents them. Mother dotes on King Jonothor and father is a stern task master as he was with us all and yet he is kind in his own way. As for the king, well he is like any other child, he is full of questions and mischief. You would like him Ned I am sure.”

His older brother smiles at that notion but then his face turns somewhat sombre. “I know that father did what he thought was best, but perhaps he would’ve been better coming to Winterfell. There is so much going on here that I am not sure I know how to continue. They want their lord, not some boy pretending to be lord.”

It was rare for Ned to ever speak of what he was feeling and so Benjen was somewhat taken aback but he said the only thing he could think of. “Ned, father entrusted you with the running of Winterfell and the north because he knew you would do a good job. And from what I can see and from what I have heard, the lords here have nothing but respect for you. As for father, he is doing what he does best, ensuring the house is in a position of strength.”

Ned seems as though he does not truly believe this but he says nothing, and for another long period of time they both sit in silence, and then eventually Ned speaks. “I do not know whether father truly remembers why he did what he did anymore. From what I have heard it seems as if he is simply playing the game of thrones now. It is as if he is simply using the king as a tool to fuel his own ambitions.”

“As would anyone else who was Regent Ned. At least father is doing what he is doing to fulfil his own ambitions but also to protect the king from those who would use the king for bad.” Benjen responds.

His brother still looks unconvinced. “There has been talk here, amongst some of the lords that father has forgotten his roots. They say that he is too busy trying to prove himself to the south that he no longer cares for the north. They ignore the fact that we have never been as secure during a winter as we are at this point in time. And the fact that many of their kinsmen are growing in power in the south. But at the same time I can understand where they are coming from. Already there are lords whispering in my ear about having one of their daughters wed to Robb or Rickon.”

“They are merely disgruntled because they are no longer the only ones demanding the attention of the Lord of Winterfell Ned. Sooner or later they shall see the benefits of what father is doing. We are already seeing the benefits, as can be shown by the port town and the developments around Winterfell.” Benjen said reassuringly.

His brother merely nods then. “Aye that is true. That is very true, still I do not appreciate having Roose Bolton speaking to me of betrothing Robb to his daughter Lynessa. There is something strange about that man, something very strange indeed.”

“Aye, remember when we met his father once? What was his name? Jonnel? I couldn’t sleep for a week after seeing that damned shrine in the Dreadfort.” Benjen responds.

His brother looks at him then and asks. “What shrine? I never knew there was any shrine in the Dreadfort brother.”

Benjen shivers slightly at the memory and says. “Well you remember how I, Brandon and father went to the Dreadfort to speak to old Lord Jonnel Bolton on a return visit.” His brother nods and so Benjen continues. “I was bored during one of the many meetings that father conducted and so went exploring and found this building within the godswood, deep within the godswood, and so I went into the building and found this shrine. There was barely anything there, but an altar and a statue, and at the altar there was a body, bleeding out, a woman, her eyes pale and lifeless. And then there was the statue, gods I will never forget the statue.”

His brother is looking at him with some concern then. “What was the statue brother?”

Benjen does not respond immediately as the horror of seeing the statue comes back to his mind, and the feeling of that woman’s skin beneath his hands, how cold she was to touch, the lifelessness of her skin and her eyes. It was all so unnerving, he does not know if he should speak of it, but perhaps he should to warn Ned away from Bolton. “The statue….was that of a beast, with the horns of a bull, the face of a demon, the body of a man and the legs of a goat. And its eyes, the eyes were the worst thing brother, they were pale blue, and they… they were moving.”


	51. Rewind

**2 nd Month of 288 A.C. The Red Keep**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

It was a nice feeling knowing that the dynasty he had worked so hard to stabilize following his father’s madness was now secure enough that he no longer needed to spend nights where he could not sleep worrying about whether or not the house would remain strong. Ned and his wife had done their duty and had two sons who were according to reports and letters both strong young boys who were curious and inquisitive, as well as a daughter who was said to be the perfect little lady. Benjen, the son whom Rickard had often wondered what to do with was now married as well with a child on the way. Yes, the dynasty was secure for now, and with the king growing up to be a fine young man he was certain that House Stark would be a presence to be reckoned with for many years to come.

At present Rickard was with his grandson listening to the boy speak of the things he was learning. “Maester Marwyn has told me of the Kings of Winter, grandpapa. He says that they were scary men who did the things needed for their kingdom. Is that true?”

Rickard looked at his grandson, who with his curls, grey eyes and long face looked so much like Lyanna sometimes it took his breath away sighed and said. “Yes Jonothor, they were hard men from a hard land.”

His grandson looked at him then with curiosity. “There was a King of Winter called Rickard was there not grandpapa? What did he do?”

Rickard had to strain his memory to recall his own lessons from a long time ago, and then called up the memories his own father had taught him before the madness had overtaken him. “King Rickard Stark was known as the Laughing wolf Jonothor. He was a good natured lad, who knew his duty and was also the King who brought the Neck and the cranongmen into the north. Do you know who the cranongmen are Jonothor?”

His grandson nods. “Yes grandpapa, they are the lords who guard the neck, who live in its swamps and defend the north from intruders. They are brave men grandpapa.”

Rickard nods and then says. “They guard the neck, they preserve our traditions and they ensure the secrets of the north never leave. One day when you are old enough you shall learn those secrets just as your cousin Robb will one day also learn them.”

“I am five namedays old now grandpapa, am I not old enough?” Jonothor asks.

Rickard smiles slightly at his grandson and king. “You are old enough to defend your grandmamma are you not my king?” his grandson puffs his chest up then and nods. Rickard smile widens. “Ah that is good to know for I am an old man, but this secret is something kings should learn when they are men grown and know their way around the red keep. And…” he trailed of as he began tickling his grandson. “Know how to avoid stealing lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

His grandson laughs. “But grandpapa I was hungry….”

Rickard continues tickling his grandson before lifting him up and as he had so often done with his children picked him up and brought him to eye level before saying seriously. “Aye, you were hungry but you are also the king. If you steal from the larder what sort of example are you setting for the rest of the kingdoms? Is it right to steal?”

His grandson shakes his head solemn now. “No grandpapa. I am sorry grandpapa. I won’t do it again.”

Rickard looks at his grandson then and sees all of Lyanna’s innocence and he relents. “Very well then. So long as you apologise to the cooks I see no reason for you to be punished.” He puts his grandson down then and then asks. “Now tell me what do you know of your uncle Eddard?”

“He is you and grandmamma’s second son and he is guardian of the north. He is a good and kind man, and is married to Lady Cat…cat. Catelyn Tully and has three children.” Jonothor responds.

“Very good my boy. Soon enough you shall meet your uncle and his family. For now though I do believe your grandmamma wished to see you.” Rickard says as he sees Lyarra enter the room.

His grandson sees Lyarra and bounds off to her, and Rickard nods at his wife as she begins answering their grandson’s rapid succession of questions. He walks out of the room and towards the council chamber where he nods at Ser Gerold before whispering. “It has been found?” the man nods and then Rickard says. “Very well, you and I shall meet with Ser Oswell once this meeting is done.” The man nods again and then they both enter the small council chamber, the other members of the council are already seated and once he is sat the meeting begins.

Lord Tywin is the first to speak. “My lords, Lord Regent there has been word from my son in the Rock, it would appear as if there are members of this new sect appearing within the Westerlands spreading their tales and songs. Jaime reports that members of the Faith in the Westerlands are growing increasingly discontent with this and wish for the throne to intervene.”

Rickard considers this a moment and then asks. “And what sort of things have these men and women been doing that has caused such great problems for the Faith?”

The hand is silent a moment before he says. “It seems they have been preaching much the same as they are in the Riverlands. That the seven who are one, are in fact seven complete separate deities, and that in order to truly worship them and accept their grace, worship must be done in a very stripped back manner with no pomp or ceremony. The septons argue that this counters the seven pointed star, and that ceremony shows just how highly the Seven who are one are valued.”

Rickard sighs. “So they are going for vanity and show rather than a claim of a breach of faith?”

Lord Tywin nods. “Indeed, it does seem they are my lord regent. The faith has often been a sect of imagery and ceremony. Taking that away from them does seem to be the best way to ignite their anger. And these people who are following that man Causter it seems are only making it worse. Jaime reports that there are men and women taking up arms amongst the smallfolk who are beginning to cause trouble for the septs within the Westerlands. They claim to be doing this in the name of the true faith.”

Rickard runs a hand through his thinning hair and says. “What response have the septons in the West given to these smallfolk?”

“They are pleading for clemency and peaceful talks. The Sept near Tarbeck Hall was sacked and the Septon killed. And now the septons have put in an appeal to the High Septon who has demanded the throne now do something to rectify the situation.” The hand responds.

Rickard sighs once more and ponders this issue, he supposes it would not be too much of a hit to his plans to settle this matter. “Very well, send word to your son and ask him to begin speaking to the smallfolk to get them to put down their weapons and return to their villages. More work shall be coming to the Westerlands with Wolf’s Port nearly complete. I shall arrange to meet with the High Septon to reassure him of my continued defence of the faith. Now what more is there?”

Lord Wyman speaks then. “There has been word from Volantis my lord regent. The new King of Volantis Moqorro wishes to renew a trading alliance with the Iron Throne. But having spoken to several nobles who have come to Westeros after fleeing the carnage that became of Volantis, and several contacts across the narrow sea, I do have to advice against doing so. The King is a zealot, who will most likely attempt to use trade as a means of converting us all to his red god.”

Rickard considers this. “Prince Oberyn how true are Lord Wyman’s fears? Will this man try to use trade as a means of converting us all?”

The prince is silent a moment and then responds. “I do believe so. The Red God has never been as powerful in Volantis as it is now. They are looking to increase the number of people who follow this red demon, and as such would not hesitate to use trade as a missionary attempt.”

Rickard nods and then says. “I want that red priest what is his name Thoros?” Oberyn nods. “I want him watched. And Wyman send word to Volantis that we shall unfortunately need to reject his offer. It is time we began using the allies we have to our advantage. Tyrosh and Lys are growing in power under our direction should we ask them to defend the shores they will do so. Especially after we have allowed so many noblemen and women to come to Westeros from Volantis. The old blood is in our debt.” The others nod and then the meeting comes to an end as there truly was not much more to discuss.

Rickard waits with Gerold as the others get up and leave and once the last of them has gone, Ser Oswell who had been standing guard outside walks in and sits down. Rickard speaks then. “Last we met, I had asked you both to discover more of the content of the vault. The scroll you brought forward Gerold was not the letter to which we are looking for but was rather a letter of an alliance between Blackfyre supporters and some very prominent lords here at court including Lord Ambrose Butterwell. But I would know what developments have come since then.”

Ser Oswell speaks first. “Well my lord regent, since last we met, I ventured down to the vault and discovered the original scroll that was originally being looked for.” The man holds it up and Rickard takes it before reading it quickly, his heart beginning to sink.

He keeps a hold of it. “The man truly deserved his name, doing that to the kingdoms was pure idiocy. No wonder Blackfyre got so pig-headed. Is there any proof the eunuch knows this exists?”

Ser Oswell speaks once more. “It would appear not my lord regent, we know Massey was in the vault looking for something. But he knew not what he was looking for. That would suggest the eunuch is grasping at air hoping for something that will add legitimacy to his cause.”

Rickard looks at the scroll in his hand and then hands it to Oswell. “Burn it, it never existed.” The man takes the scroll and nods.

Ser Gerold then speaks.  “What of the Vault my lord regent? There are some very valuable items there that the eunuch could try and get to again.”

Rickard nods. “I have considered this and from what you both have told me, I have thought about placing guards there. But there is the risk of them being bought off or even killed. We cannot afford that, and therefore knowledge of the vault must remain between us three. Even Prince Oberyn knows now where it is exactly and that must remain the case. We cannot have anyone else knowing for the more who know the secret, the more likely people will try to make a name for themselves. As for the goods within the vault they should be protected by the dragons guarding them. Soon enough though we shall need to move them from there, and to Dragonstone.”

The Lord Commander nods and then asks. “And what of the book?”

Rickard hesitates over this and then he says. “Leave it there. No one will go looking for something they believe does not exist anymore.” The lord commander nods and their meeting comes to an end.

 


	52. So He Spoke, Oh So He Spoke

**4 th Month of 288 A.C. Casterly Rock**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

He had settled surprisingly well into life at Casterly Rock, it was much simpler than life in the Red Keep. There were fewer games being played and the people were actually quite honest, or rather as honest as one could be in a land where gold and trade were the ways one made a living. Being a father was honestly one of the best things to have happened to Jaime, truly it was. His son Arthur was the jewel of his eye, he was at one name day a loud child who was constantly babbling away in his baby talk and was constantly causing trouble. He would be a good man when he was older Jaime knew. Soon enough he would also have another brother or sister with which to play with, as Ashara was with child once more, and she looked even more beautiful now. Jaime found that he would never get bored of his wife, she was so smart and interesting and beautiful, that he was captivated by her and somehow she had remained with him despite his many insecurities. He loved her truly he did.

There was one issue that was constantly troubling him and that was his sister. Cersei he knew now was nothing but a corrosive influence on him, she was selfish and manipulative. Someone whom Jaime was not sure he wanted his son to know. Her husband was also somewhat like her as well, which was why they got on so well he supposed. Had he been as naïve as he had been when he had joined the Kingsguard, Jaime knew he would have been very jealous of the obvious affection between the two, but he had something much better than that, he had a loving wife who supported him and who he supported. There was none of this chaos or tension that there was between Cersei and her own husband and for that Jaime was forever grateful.

And now there was the matter of the smallfolk and the faith, the trouble brewing there was something his father had asked him to deal with and so he had asked the leader of the faith here in the Westerlands Septon Joren to come to the Rock to discuss his concerns. The man was from House Ruttiger as far as Jaime could recall and would likely be reporting everything they discussed to his brother as well. The man was short and skinny, with a mop of brown hair and mousey grey eyes. Jaime instantly disliked him but still put on a courteous front. “Septon Joren thank you for coming to Casterly Rock. I know that the faith have sent you here to bring forth the problems you feel are quite pressing here. And so I would hear the problems that you feel need addressing.”

Immediately the man got on Jaime’s nerves. “I had thought to speak with the Lord of Casterly Rock, not the little cub. This is a matter of grave importance. But I suppose one cannot expect a godless man such as Tywin Lannister to take such things importantly.”

Jaime grits his teeth and says. “My lord father is busy in King’s Landing seeing to the running of the seven kingdoms. He has asked me to speak with you in his place, and as such you agreed to meet with me. So I would hear what you and the others of the faith have to speak of.”

The septon seems to be trying not to look smug when he responds. “Very well then. The main topic of concern is the growing popularity of this heretic Causter and just how little is being done to prevent the growth of his popularity within the Westerlands.”

Jaime looks at the man and then asks. “And what exactly is it about the man’s growing popularity that is causing so much distress to the faith? The last I checked, there was nothing to say that a man could not preach what he wanted so long as it was not treason.”

Septon Joren looks at him as if he has grown a second head and says. “This man Causter is speaking heresy. His talk of the seven being completely separate deities, is complete nonsense and the fact that the throne is allowing this to continue shows just how little the regent truly cares for the true religion. I had hoped that the Rock as a centre of Andal culture would be more willing  to defend the true faith from such heresy.”

Jaime looks at the man trying hard to keep the scorn from showing. “The smallfolk of the Westerlands have done little to cause the Rock or the other lords of the Westerlands to intervene. Attending sermons where this man is present is not a major concern as the sermons are peaceful and he is merely giving the smallfolk hope. Something it seems the faith has been lacking, especially considering the scandals that enveloped the Starry Sept.”

Septon Joren looks angered by this and it shows. “There was no proof of those accusations against the chief convenor. The woman herself recanted her accusations as well. The true faith is the only religion that should be practiced anywhere. That the Lord Regent refuses to see that, is not our concern. We had thought the Rock would be willing to do more to protect the faith which welcomed your father back into the fold after he committed the atrocities against the Reynes and Tarbecks. The near attack on the Sept near Tarbeck Hall was a grievous insult and blasphemy against the Father and the true faith and nothing was done.”

Jaime sighs. “There was no attack though on that Sept. as you mention it was a near attack that was reverted when this Causter spoke up against it. In fact the faith has been the one causing more trouble for themselves by preaching against peace and demanding more forceful action. That few are responding to what you and your fellow brothers are preaching I believe shows just how desperate you have become.”

Septon Joren looks completely shocked by the tone Jaime has taken with him and he stumbles over his words. “This was not a request Ser. This was a demand that the Rock do more to prevent heresy from spreading. For if the Rock does nothing then there are lords loyal to the Faith who will stand and do as the gods’ demand of them. And the Rock shall suffer for it.”

Jaime’s hands clench and it is through gritted teeth he asks. “Is that a threat Septon Joren? You are aware of what happened to last people who threatened this family?”

The man stands then his eyes defiant. “Yes they are the ones who shall condemn your father when his time comes.” With that the man turns and leaves the solar leaving Jaime alone with his thoughts for a long time.

The door to the solar eventually opens and Ashara walks in, holding their son Jaime smiles when he sees them both and stands and takes his son from his wife and then asks his boy. “So what have you done my little man?”

His son looked up at him then with something close to awe, and Jaime felt his heart swell. “I rode the lions papa, I rode them and played knights and maidens with mama.” Jaime looks at his wife who is sat opposite him smiling.

“And then what did you do?” Jaime asks.

“I hid in the gardens and found treasure buried there. But mama said I had to leave it there for when my brother or sister comes, so that we can find it together.” His son said.

Jaime nods and then as his son begins squirming in his arms he puts him down and allows him to totter around the solar. Jaime looks at his wife then and Ashara asks softly. “How did it go with Septon Joren?”

“Not well,” Jaime says softly. “I fear the man has grown too powerful from the whispers of others within the faith here in the West. That my father has not asked for anything to be done about the Caustarians has made things worse.”

His wife nods and asks. “What did he say in particular Jaime? The man does seem like a villain if his brother is anything to go by.”

“He claimed that as the Rock was not doing enough to rectify this situation, he would have to speak to lords who remembered their faith. I fear he means to stir some of the less tractable lords to arms.” Jaime responds.

His wife looks alarmed at that and asks. “Can he do that? Would that not be breaking the king’s peace?”

Jaime laughs then. “The faith have never truly cared for the king’s peace unless it benefitted them. Besides we both know what Lord Ruttiger makes of me and us. He would not hesitate to join his brother, and others would soon enough follow.”

Ashara gets up then and comes to take his hand. “These are increasingly worrying times for us Jaime my love. Do you not think sending word to your father would be wise? As much as I dislike the man surely he could recommend a solution to this issue?”

Jaime looks at his wife and sighs. “He would tell me to do what any good Lannister would do and remind these men what happens to those who try to go against us. He does not truly care about the Westerlands anymore. He is too busy playing his little games in King’s Landing trying to increase his own power. The lords here are growing bitter about how ignored they have become. I have tried everything but I fear there is not much more I can do.”

Ashara moves her hand from his and picks up Arthur who had been dropping off to sleep. “Do you truly think it could come to fighting?”

Jaime sighs once more. “I know not my love. I hope it does not. But with how things are going and with the minor lords causing all kinds of trouble, I do not know what other course there is.”

“And of course unless they make the first move you can do nothing to quell their actions or the tension. For without proof, they will string you before the faith and the throne.” His wife says, she is silent for a moment and then. “I spoke with Arthur when he was here last, I was curious as to the situation in King’s Landing and it does seem as if things there are worse than they are here. It appears the High Septon is growing more and more truculent and the Lord Regent is working towards undermining him.”

Jaime looks at his wife then unsure of where she is going with this and asks. “And you think that has something to do with Septon Joren?”

His wife nods. “I think it has everything to do with the man. He is clearly ambitious, we both know what his brother is like. There is more to that man than meets the eye. I do believe we must begin making enquiries and perhaps even looking towards this Causter man perhaps there is some truth to what he says.”

Jaime looks at his wife and then their son asleep in her eyes and nods. “Very well I shall send out men I trust to invite this man to meet.” His wife nods and then turns and leaves the solar with their son.

Jaime sits alone in the solar for a long time pondering over a fair few things. He wonders what he would do if faced with a situation where his bannermen were rebelling against him, he suspects there is a limit on how long his father can get away with his plotting and scheming before it comes back to haunt them all. He does hope that that limit does not come anytime soon, for he worries that the Westerlands is a pot getting ready to boil, and when it does the chaos will be unimaginable.


	53. A Crossed Man

**6 th Month of 288 A.C. The Riverlands**

**Septon Maegor**

Maegor had been in the riverlands for a fair few moons now observing the people of the Riverlands and how they responded to this Causter fellow, and he had to be completely honest with himself the reactions are somewhat different to what he had expected. There was none of the zealotry that he had feared would attach itself to the man, instead his followers seemed to be of the more patient and intellectual type, willing to debate and ask questions about what he said. Giving the man and his disciples a chance to answer for themselves instead of relying on force of arms to intimidate people. He had to admit he was thoroughly impressed and he knew the High Septon would be alarmed.

The man himself remained much a mystery to Maegor now as he had done when he had first arrived. He was rarely seen unless preaching or speaking with the smallfolk. It seemed he wished to retain the image he had slowly cultivated of being the people’s champion, and that was something Maegor was determined to find out why, why was he so determined to be seen as such, and did this man have any ulterior motive. For so long the faith had been clouded with corruption and men and women trying to do things to further themselves and their families instead of the Faith that it was only a matter of time before something new arose to challenge them. Hence, Maegor felt he was justified in being surprised by the invitation that had come to him from the man, asking if Maegor would be willing to dine with him tonight. Maegor curious as always had accepted the invitation and now dressed in his white robes had come to meet the man in the meagre house he lived in.

Causter, if that was truly his name was a tall man with short cropped brown hair and grey eyes as well as a greying beard. He had a long face and was lean of build. Maegor briefly wondered at his origin before the man spoke. “Thank you for coming Septon Maegor, I was unsure of whether or not you would receive the invitation kindly or not. Considering the line the High Septon has taken.”

Causter’s voice is oddly soft for a man of his size. Maegor merely nods and says. “I was curious I admit. To meet the man behind the legend. There are many rumours about you, and I wished to distinguish between the legend and the truth.”

Causter smiled. “An admirable goal Septon, and one that is quite different from what your other sworn brothers and sisters of the faith have adopted to me and mine.”

“And have you given them cause to?” Maegor asks genuinely curious.

“I believe that I may have done so unintentionally. All I have ever wanted is for the corruption in the Faith to be dealt with in a fashion that is suitable and justifiable. For too long the High Septon and the Most Devout have covered up the wrong doings of themselves and their brothers and sisters. I wish to change that.” Causter responds.

“And how do you wish to bring about that change? For I too have attempted to bring change to the Faith to little or no avail.” Maegor says.

“You, if you will forgive me the bluntness, have not been quick enough nor blunt enough in your attempts to bring about any true change or improvement in the faith.” The man replies. Maegor bristles slightly but is also more intrigued by what he has to say. “The Faith as seen by the High Septon and the Most Devout and most of the septons and the septas of Westeros is a very archaic thing. It is not that much changed from how the Andals originally saw their faith upon arriving in Westeros. They see themselves as the struggle between the good and the bad. But they do not realise that in doing this they have become that which they have wished to fight. No longer is the faith as pure as it once was. To bring about change, one must be willing to push boundaries and test limits.” Causter responds.

“Is that why you have begun with the idea of the seven truly being separate deities instead of seven who make one?” Maegor asks. “That seems to be a very old style of thinking, something the Andals who made it north adopted.”

“Indeed it is. The northerners who follow the faith, I believe have the right idea. The Seven as one, is a mistake that has been created over the centuries as the followers here in the south have begun to try to distance themselves from the true path and true identity of their faith. The Old Gods are the forefathers of the Seven, bringing light to world where before there was only darkness. The Seven are the children left to guide us through this new age. Each one is a separate deity, meant to bring peace and safety to those who worship.” The man says.

“And how do you intend to spread your version of the Faith? After all, without the backing of the lords there will be little support for you or your disciples.” Maegor asks.

“The arms and voices of the smallfolk have already carried the message further than any lord could. We have presence here in the Riverlands and in the Westerlands as well. Already we are gaining notice and influence. More and more people are following the true way and coming away from the edge of despair. It will not be long until all who follow the faith are following its true version.” Causter says an edge of determination in his voice.

“And when the High Septon calls for the armies of the Faith to stand up and fight? What will you do then? Who will defend you?” Maegor asks.

“We shall defend ourselves if necessary. But as the Father does stand and protect his children, I shall take the blows that come our way. For we are a peaceful people and shall not be drawn into unnecessary fighting.” The man responds.

“And if that does not protect you?” Maegor presses. “What will you do then?”

“We shall take heard from the Warrior and fight to defend our right to believe what we wish. The High Septon has become a godless man as have many of the Most Devout. It is time that changed.” Causter says his voice even.

“How do you propose to do that? The High Septon is considering rearming the faith militant simply to combat what you are and what you stand for. Sooner or later, something will break.” Maegor asks.

The man looks at him for a long time, in silence, and Maegor begins to feel that there is something going on here that he has not quite picked up on. Eventually the man breaks the silence and in that deep timber of his says. “That is where you come in Father Maegor. You are a member of the most devout, and have deep rooted connections within the Faith. You are a man who desperately wants the Faith to reform, and yet we both know it will never change into what you wish it to be unless there are changes from within the inside. If you wish for the changes to be made, you must make them.”

“What are you proposing?” Maegor asks, not entirely sure he likes where this is going.

“The High Septon must be removed, and he must be removed soon. The Faith is tearing itself apart over many issues, when the true source of the problem lies at its very centre. For the Faith to ever truly evolve, the people in charge must change. And you can lead that change. You are of the blood royal Septon Maegor, you have the strength and the connections to do so. Do not hesitate now. Do not allow the devils of the past influence you.” The man says.

Maegor is silent as he considers what the man has said. He will not lie to himself he has considered doing just as this man is suggesting for many years now, ever since his great nephew went mad, he has considered doing something. But he has always held himself in check, not wishing to become like his cousins, or even worse like his own father. But now, now when the world hangs in the balance, perhaps…. “What would you gain from such a move? It is all well and good saying that I would be doing the faith a great service by doing this, but what would you be gaining?”

“A chance to remove the stain that has infected the Faith. A chance to ensure we are all safe for when the day of judgement comes.  That is all I shall gain from this.”

Maegor looks at the man sceptically. “I have learnt many things during my time in the Faith. And the most important lesson I learnt was that a man who claims he will gain little from an action as grand as this is either a fool or a liar. And I do not believe you a fool Causter. So tell me, and tell me true, what is it you hope to gain from this.”

The man smiles and this time his smile is almost feral. “A chance for the light to come back from the darkness. A chance to show that we are not backwards. A chance for revenge, and a chance for justice.”

Another long silence follows the man’s speech, and in that silence Maegor considers everything he can do. His options are limited either he deals with this man here and now and risk never making it back to King’s Landing, or he agrees to this man’s suggestion and begins planning for the greatest risk of his life. This is something that has only been achieved once, and even then the man who did it was caught and killed, but not before revealing whom he worked for. To have it be him, a member of the Most Devout would be a sin and a crime greater than the Blackfyres. But then he remembers the High Septon had once been and the man he had become with that crown on his head, and Maegor wonders what it would be like. The witch had said something once about him wearing a crown of rubies, and madness engulfing the realm. That is something that has haunted him for many years, and now he wonders if perhaps this is a chance he gets to determine the fate of Westeros.

He looks at the man who has remained silent throughout his internal deliberations and then he says. “Very well, what would you have of me? And be specific I do not like vagueness.”

Causter looks at him with a fixed gaze, those grey eyes looking startlingly familiar, and then his voice is deep. “A simple plan would be put in place for you to deal with the main obstacles in our way, and then when the time comes this plan would be carried out. You would have support of course, in the same way the last such man who carried out a similar plot did. This time there will be no getting caught. The people necessary shall die and then when all is said and done you shall be the hero.”

Maegor digests this and then asks. “And it must be me? I must be the one to do it?”

The man nods. “Yes Septon, you have known that it would be you for a very long time. Without you, we cannot bring change to the Faith, and it shall be riven by corruption and greed for the rest of its days. The king is but a babe, there is time yet for us to have influence. Now is the time to make the move. Remove those who must go and we shall not be lost.”

Maegor nods and then says with as much determination as he has felt in many a year. “I shall do it. I shall remove the High Septon.”


	54. A Little Less Conversation

**8 th Month of 288 A.C. The Red Keep**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

“It has been too long since we were last in the north my love. I do not want my lords thinking that I have forgotten them.” Rickard said, beginning an old argument.

“So you would travel to Winterfell in the midst of winter, leaving Tywin Lannister alone to rule as Hand? I did not think you were so naïve Rickard.” His wife countered.

“Tywin Lannister does not have a base of power strong enough to truly undermine all that we have worked on. Besides he has his own problems to deal with in the Westerlands. I do not want to end up like him or my father. My bannermen must know that I still remember them.” Rickard argued.

“And they do my love truly they do. There has not been a single complaint from them since we have been here. Ned has done well in ensuring that they do not feel as if they have been forgotten.” Lyarra responded.

Rickard looks at his wife then and sighs. “Aye, even if they do not feel slighted by just how long it has been one of us must go north with Jonothor. They must see their king to know that what they fought for is being well raised and guarded. They must see that he is as much a northerner as he is of the south.”

His wife looks at him with some amusement in her eyes. “I had thought you did not wish for him to become too much of a northerner my love. Something about being concerned as to how the southerners would react to him?”

Rickard snorts then. “Aye, tis true. But I feel myself missing home somewhat. The godswood and the people are much friendlier than they are here. Even if half the court seems to be northmen. I know they hunger for home and true snow. Besides it would do well for Jonothor to know his heritage.”

Lyarra looks at him with her perceptive dark eyes and says. “You want to get him out of King’s Landing so that when the time comes to remove the hand, nothing can be done to harm him. A smart move my love. But will people not come looking for the king?”

Rickard shakes his head. “No there is one place that I am confident that none can enter without our knowledge and that is Winterfell. He will be as secure as he can be there. Furthermore he will get to know Ned’s two little boys. Family is important, I learnt that the hard way.”

His eyes go down then as he remembers his daughter and son both gone now, Lyarra squeezes his hand then and says. “I am sure he will enjoy it thoroughly from what Ned’s letters say Robb is a good and kind child whilst Rickon is supposedly quite wild. Should the other two boys go as well?”

Rickard considers this for a long time and then finally says. “I believe it might well be good yes. It would give Harwyn Greyjoy a chance to know his uncle as well as to develop closer relations with young Robb, though it does mean that brute Ser Harras shall have to accompany you.  As for Loras he venturing to Winterfell could well knock some sense into his head. The boy is too arrogant even at his young age.”

His wife laughs slightly at that and then she asks. “What of Viserys and Daenerys, they will want to go as well. You know how protective Viserys is of Jonothor.”

Rickard ponders over this and says. “No the lad must remain here as should the princess. Stannis Baratheon’s brother is likely to come foster here given the trouble in the Stormlands, he should have company soon enough.”

His wife nods then and says with a note of finality in her voice. “So whom should accompany us from the guard?”

“Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell and Ser Mark will accompany you from the Kingsguard. As for the other guards, well I shall leave that to you.” Rickard responds. His wife nods and then he stands and says. “And now I must go and face the council and try to ensure nothing happens to give away our plans.” He kisses his wife on the forehead before walking out.

He walks toward the council chamber, Ser Gerold a silent white shadow behind him, the journey passes in silence as Rickard ponders the various things that shall need to be discussed in this meeting. He nods to Ser Jon Redfort who is guarding the door this time, and then once he has entered the room and sat down the council meeting begins. “Last we met, there were issues in Tyrosh and Lys, and I would begin by speaking of those matters.”

The hand Lord Tywin spoke then. “Thank you for bringing that matter up first my lord regent. With regards to Tyrosh, the Archon with whom the alliance was negotiated has since been removed from office. It would appear the council of magisters feel he has not done enough to ensure the development of Tyroshi interests here in Westeros. They have since elected a man whom has some questionable motives who has begun pushing for a harder line in negotiations.”

Rickard looks at the hand then and asks. “Will this threaten the alliance?”

Tywin shakes his head. “I believe not my lord regent. This man is no fool, he knows what will happen should he seek to question the alliance or even seek to challenge it. And yet there are some concerns I have.” He pauses then and Rickard nods for him to continue. “From what my own contacts in Tyrosh have told me, the man claims descent from a female of House Blackfyre and could well be working towards something more obtuse. I know that it does not seem a very relevant concern now considering the Blackfyres having been dead for some time, but still it is a matter that does need addressing.”

Rickard nods at this. “Have one of your sources gather all the information they can and present it to Prince Oberyn’s sources and then have them work together to remove the Archon before he can negotiate any stringent terms. What are the other concerns you have?”

The man is silent a moment then responds. “Tyrosh is clearly burning with activity after this recent election, if we remove this Archon, another Archon will need to be chosen. One who is more compliant to our terms and conditions? There is one man I can see as relevant for this, his name is Mago and I do believe he has the credentials to be a good Archon.”

Rickard considers this and then says. “I shall take a look at this man and then decide. Now what is the news of Lys?”

The hand is silent once more before speaking. “The situation within Lys has settled down considerably. The nobles who fled the purge in Volantis have been accepted into power with some ease. And now the magisters are looking towards instead of becoming a protectorate looking to become part of the Iron Throne’s complete dominions. To prevent the growth of the Red God and the power of Volantis. It would be a very good idea I believe my lord regent. Lys has access to trade routes across the narrow sea and would also give us a strong foothold on within the Free Cities.”

Rickard considers this for a moment and then responds. “I agree with you, but I want more correspondence with the magisters before I reach a full decision. Ebrose send word to the magisters and ask them to send someone with which talks can be held.” The man nods and then Rickard asks. “Now what news is there from the Stormlands?”

At this Prince Oberyn speaks. “More word of discontent and oppression comes from Nightsong my lord regent. Lord Caron writes that Stannis Baratheon’s laws and reforms are beginning to impede on their way of life to such an extent that they know not what course of action to do. Appeals to Storm’s End seem to fall on deaf ears or responses telling them to accept that this is the way things go.”

Rickard sighs, and runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Has Baratheon had anything to say on this? Is he even aware of the trouble these reforms and laws of his are causing him?”

Prince Oberyn nods. “It seems he is aware of some of the trouble his laws are causing, but all the reports suggest that he merely wishes to get on with things. He has said numerous times that if they do not like his laws then it is tough for them for it is winter, and these are the laws that are needed.”

Rickard sighs once more. “That man is more like his father, than the oaf who led the rebellion. It seems we are going to be seeing more trouble in the Stormlands than first thought. Who are the lords who are creating trouble for Baratheon?”

“Dondarrion, Swann, Selmy, Caron, Bolling, Buckler and Errol my lord regent. They have all signed the petition which you see before you. Demanding that their rights be protected and looked at.” The master of whispers responds.

Rickard looks at Staunton then and asks. “Simon you are master of laws, tell me does this document have any validity?” he holds up said document.

Lord Simon Staunton a man who seems to be fading before his own eyes, takes his time to respond and when he does his answer is uncertain. “I am not sure my lord regent. I would need to have a closer look at the document before giving any conclusive judgements.”

Rickard nods and hands the document over to the man saying. “Spend as much time as you wish looking over the document Simon, Ebrose send a raven to the lords mentioned and tell them to be patient soon this problem shall be solved. Send one also to Storm’s End to inform Baratheon that his younger brother Renly I believe the child is called shall be fostering in King’s Landing as agreed.”

There is some murmuring then but it is relatively quiet after a while. Eventually Lord Monford Velaryon speaks, his voice hesitant. “My Lord Regent there is one other matter that I believe must be addressed before we move onto other matters. And that is the matter of Lord Massey. It has been moons since he was last seen and none have heard word from him. Is there anything that should perhaps be done to find him?”

Rickard keeps his face completely calm and expressionless. “Lord Massey returned to Stonedance to attend to some matters there some moons ago. He mentioned that he might not be able to return immediately, and indeed he did say that he would not be able to come back soon. He sent a raven did he not Ebrose?”

The maester nods and then Lord Monford says. “Very well then my lord regent.” The matter dropped Rickard breathes an internal sigh of relief.

The final matter to be brought before the council is raised by Prince Oberyn. “There is the issue of the High Septon’s increasing demands for a more militant response towards this new brand of the faith who are calling themselves Caustarians after their leader. He demands to know why the crown has done nothing to shift the focus of its agenda. And it seems some lords are beginning to support him.”

Rickard sighs. “Which lords are these?”

“Bracken, Deddings, Charlton and Paege. As well as Kyndall, Ruttiger and Plumm. It seems the High Septon has offered them all something in return for their support.” The master of whispers says.

Rickard sighs once more. “And sort of things is this man offering?”

“Gold, land, and most out of all a chance to bask in the glory of defending the true faith from heretics and heathens. It seems he is playing on old age hatreds to rally these houses to his cause.” The prince says.

Rickard nods. “Very well, let us arrange a meeting with this man. And should that not go according to plan then we might well need to look elsewhere for the faith.”


	55. Sudden Realisations

**10 th Month of 288 A.C. Riverrun**

**Lady Lyarra Stark**

Winter always made travel long and difficult, the snow on the ground was close to her knees, and though she was not a tall woman she could truly understand just how difficult it was to travel. It seemed as was always the case, the further north they went, the deeper and thicker the snow got. And of course, these southerners were always complaining about the snow and the difficulties of dealing with it. Truth be told, Lyarra had grown somewhat bored with hearing their complaints, travelling with some other fifty retainers was also something that she had not known whether she was happy with or not, that half of them were northmen was a good thing, but the southerners were the ones slowing the party down. That combined with the fact that they had to travel in a wheelhouse to ensure that Jonothor and his two companions did not grow ill, was what was slowing them down truly.

The journey had been made bearable Lyarra supposed because of just how curious and entranced by everything Jonothor and his friends were. Her grandson was five namedays old now, and was always asking questions, constantly wanting to know more about everything and everyone. In that way he reminded her somewhat of Benjen at that age, and sometimes Lyarra’s heart would ache at the thought that her own daughter, Jonothor’s mother would never get to help in raising her son. Her grandson’s two companions were marked contrasts to one another and Jonothor. Loras Tyrell the youngest son of Mace Tyrell was a brash child, always doing things that made Lyarra’s heart leap into her mouth, and she would often have to scold him, or the boy’s aunt Mina would have to as well. He was a good child, but sometimes Lyarra wished he was not with them, so often would he get the others to do things that they would never normally do. And then there was Lord Harwyn Greyjoy the four year old Lord of the Iron Islands, as the youngest of the group, Lord Harwyn was also the quietest. Rarely saying anything, but always watching with his eyes wide, he was a sweet child even if he rarely spoke. The boy’s mother was a intelligent girl as well and she seemed to get the most out of her son. As for the boy’s guardian, Ser Harras Harlaw was a quiet man but Lyarra did not trust him.

Arriving at Riverrun had put her mind somewhat at ease as well, the castle was not as big as Winterfell but it was homely. And Hoster Tully was a jovial man, who Lyarra now knew could never sit still, they had been in Riverrun for some four days now, and the man was always doing something or asking them to do something along with him. His son Edmure was a nice fellow if a bit out there somewhat, and then there were the other members of Riverrun, the legendary Blackfish was as stout and stubborn as always, his wife Jayne Bracken a sweet girl with a bit of fire to her their children were delightful as well. Then there were the man’s squires, Patrek Mallister was a brash lad, Perwyn Frey quiet and reserved, Marq Piper was brash as well, and then there was Lymond Goodbrook who was somewhere in between. Asha Greyjoy she had seen very little of, apart from when she played with her nephew.

Right now though, such observations would not do her much good, for she had asked to speak with Lord Hoster about somethings the man had discussed with Rickard, and upon arriving at Riverrun she had given the man a letter writ in her own husband’s hand. Of course after four days the man had finally agreed to meet with her in private and so here she was. Lord Hoster was looking at her intently, his hands steepled together. Lyarra took a sip of water and then said. “Lord Hoster I thank you for your hospitality and the services you and your family have offered us during our stay here. I know it must not be easy hosting so many people, and I promise we shall not be here for much longer. But there is of course the matter of my husband’s letter to discuss with you.”

Lord Hoster nods. “Thank you, and it has been no trouble at all housing you all. His Grace is a most charming young man, and his companions have added some life to this old and dreary castle. But of course the matter of your husband’s letter.” The man pauses a moment and then says. “I have considered what the lord regent has said, and asked, and I find that I agree with him. Something must be done about the old lion, but the question is what exactly can be done without alerting too much suspicion.”

Lyarra nods. “My husband has said that the Dornish are desperate to have Tywin Lannister to themselves, and that this patience they have shown is slowly running thin. And yet with the growing tensions within the realm, it might be best to have the man life for a little while longer as we wait to see how things go with this new religious sect.”

“Aye, that could well be the smartest course of action to go with. Tywin Lannister is many things, but he is useful when it comes to talking down to the Faith. For too long we have sat by and allowed their corruption to go by unchecked. This new sect has provided just the impetus to scare them into consideration. Though the High Septon’s call to arms for many houses is cause for concern.” The man responds.

“I have been meaning to ask you about that my lord. We received word in King’s Landing that Lords Bracken, Deddings and Charlton had all answered the High Septon’s call and were mustering arms. I had thought you would have done something to dissuade them from doing such a thing?” Lyarra asks.

Lord Hoster sighs. “I have been doing my utmost to try and ensure nothing goes wrong with them. But Jonos Bracken is a stubborn man, and with my goodsister being his daughter he feels he can get away with somethings. As for Deddings and Charlton I have reminded them of what happens to those who break away from Riverrun’s direction. They are now merely working to undermine Bracken on my direction.”

“And how long will it take before this succeeds in bringing Bracken back into the fold. I am sure I do not need to remind you just how damaging having Bracken fighting for the High Septon could be.” Lyarra states.

The Lord of Riverrun is silent considering his response, before he does eventually say. “Not too long, already overtures are being made to remind the man of what the High Septon cost him when he was a young man. Soon enough the man will fall back into line and the High Septon shall lose what support he has here in the Riverlands.”

Lyarra nods and then says. “And what of the man Causter?”

The Lord of Riverrun does not ask what she means he merely states. “He is getting enough support to pose a serious challenge to the established faith here. And we now have a member of the Most Devout on board. Soon enough the High Septon shall fall from favour here.” The man pauses a moment and then asks. “And how is the Lord Regent getting on?”

Lyarra is silent a moment and then responds. “He is doing well. He wished to come as well, but there is much that needs to be done in King’s Landing, which requires his presence. And so I have come in his stead.”

Lord Hoster nods at that and then turns the conversation to the true nature of this visit. “Now, your husband did mention maintaining the promises made during and after the rebellion. I wish to discuss some solutions I have thought of.” Lyarra is silent a moment and then nods. “Lord Tywin is no fool, his actions regarding the city watch and some of the more prominent members at court show that. He is slowly trying to engage more members of the crownlands and make them sympathetic to his own side and cause. Whilst the man is a good politician, he is a destabilizing influence on the realm and the alliance which one the throne. Asking Prince Oberyn to do the deed himself would be too obvious and would lead to much anger in the Westerlands. That is something that must be avoided. Therefore, I suggest using someone who would not be brought into as much scrutiny to do the deed.”

Lyarra considers this and then enquires. “Who would you suggest my lord?”

“The same man whom is doing the deeds of Causter, has reason enough to resent the Lannisters for the insults they dealt him long ago. That the High Septon is some sort of kin to Tywin Lannister should be enough incentive for him to deal with both men.” Hoster responds.

Lyarra nods. “It does make sense and would take much of the heat away from Prince Oberyn, but would Lord Tywin not suspect that something is afoot?”

Lord Hoster smiles then. “He shall suspect but what he suspects and what he knows are no longer as direct as one might think. There are many ways that this can be done my lady. And I assure you that once it is done, Tywin Lannister shall not be a problem anymore.”

Lyarra merely nods. “Now what of Asha Greyjoy?”

“What of her my lady?” Lord Hoster asks.

“Do not play coy with me my lord, it does not become you.” Lyarra says teasingly. “We both know you volunteered to have Asha Greyjoy foster here in Riverrun in an attempt to marry her to your own son. I note that such a thing has not seemingly happened yet. And I was wondering why that is?”

The Lord of Riverrun smiles bashfully before responding. “I admit that was my plan, but it seems my son and the lady Asha do not truly wish to know one another on more than a friendly level. It seems she is more taken with the Mallister heir.”

Lyarra takes note of this and then asks. “And surely this is something that could be used for the benefit of the Riverlands. Seagard is often the place that the Ironborn attack first if they ever look to invade. With Lord Harwyn fostering in King’s Landing, and his uncle fostering in Winterfell. And now this, the Ironborn will have little reason to attack the western coast of Westeros ever again.”

The Lord of Riverrun nods. “That is very true my lady. And yet with the Ironborn one never truly knows what they might do. Rodrik Harlaw is a sensible man, and yet the rest of the Ironborn lords I know clamour for war and a return to their old ways. Something is brewing on the islands, but I am not sure what it is.”

Lyarra looks at the man then. “And you believe that Asha Greyjoy might be doing something that could well be used against the riverlands in the future?”

“I would certainly not discount it. The Greyjoys are cunning, but whether or not they are willing to risk going completely for war I am not sure anymore. Regardless, I know that Patrek Mallister and Asha Greyjoy will be wed before the moon is over.” Lord Hoster responds.

“And what of your own son my lord?” Lyarra asks.

The Lord of Riverrun is silent and thoughtful at this and then after a long moment he says. “I have received an offer from Stafford Lannister. He wishes to tie our two houses closer together. If all goes well in King’s Landing, I shall have a foot in the West before the year ends.”


	56. Prince of Thieves

**12 th Month of 288 A.C. Various Locations**

**Prince Oberyn Martell**

King’s Landing and its ghosts no longer completely haunted Oberyn as much as they used to. True he did still sometimes catch himself looking for Elia or her babes at night. But more often than not, he know spent the time he was not required to be gathering information with his girls. He and Ellaria were something more than just lovers, there was a deeper connection there, something Oberyn had only seen with his father and mother, and he wondered if perhaps it would be lasting with Ellaria, he certainly hoped so. Their daughters were all growing up very fast, the sand snakes as he had taken to calling them were all proving to be a force to be reckoned with and he had found much to his shock and sometimes loathing were very good at gathering secrets Tyene and Sarella in particular.

Of course there were times when his job made him stay up at night with worry. He worried over whether or not something from his line of work or his past would come back to harm his girls, he desperately hoped not. One part of his job involved travelling places and gathering information. It was something he was surprisingly good at, and of course the one place where the lord regent had wanted him to go was the Stepstones. The islands were in relative peace for a change, the men left in command were doing a good job of ensuring that the various factions that lived on the islands did not try to fight and kill one another. Oberyn was impressed there was little to report to the crown, and so from there orders had come for him to go to Tyrosh to assess the situation there.

And so that was how he found himself sat in some tavern with shady light and bad company, and of course the man before him had brownish hair and a drunken look to him. “Now have you gotten the information I require of you?” Oberyn asks.

The man takes a deep sip of his ale and says. “Yes my prince. I know the true source of the Archon’s heritage and of course I now know where the magister is as well.”

Oberyn looks at the man. “Now then what information do you have for me, and please ensure that it is true this time.”

The man is silent and then he says. “The Archon comes from the Calla Blackfyre, daughter of Daemon Blackfyre and her husband Bittersteel, their lineage is much more prolific through the Free Cities than anyone had first thought. Their descendants hold power in some four of the free cities and now this Archon holds power, and though he does not bear the name Bittersteel he harbours the same ambitions as his forefathers.”

“And what do these ambitions entail?” Oberyn asked.

“He wants what he believes to be the true dynasty restored to the throne. He wishes to see his ancestors put back on that chair with the barbs. This alliance with the current king on the throne is nothing but a ruse. When the time is right he will break the alliance and declare for his cousins.” The man responds.

Oberyn looks at the man for a long time and then asks. “Are you certain of this? The last of that line died on the Stepstones there are none left who have a true claim based on the succession laws of the throne.”

His source looks at him then a crooked grin on his face. “Ah but my prince, you see this is a new regime. What is there to say that the man has not changed the succession laws. After all technically it should be Prince Viserys who is the king. There is more in the secrets of the Red Keep than just cells and vaults.”

“What more is there? And how do you know?” Oberyn asks.

“I hear things whilst in the Archon’s palace my prince. He speaks frequently with those who know the secrets of the Red Keep and the Iron Throne. That letter they are looking for is not the only thing that was of interest to them. I believe they are trying to change the succession laws of the throne.” The man responds.

Oberyn is stunned by this revelation. “How are they going to try to do that? For some nearly one hundred and fifty years the succession laws have been somewhat clear. There is nothing for them to change.”

His source merely grins at him before taking another swig of ale. “There is more to this than meets the eye my prince. It seems the Archon is working with someone at court to undermine the Regent’s laws and his plans. Regardless sooner or later the alliance between Tyrosh and the Iron Throne shall come to an end.”

“And yet the Archon does not have the means with which to support himself and Tyrosh without aid from the throne. Lys and Myr will not side with him anymore. How does he hope to support himself and his city?” Oberyn enquired

“There are allies deeper down the coastline who attend to his needs. They are the ones who will be providing for him. The resources they have taken from plunder and loot during their travails. Krakens I believe you call them in Westeros.” The man responds.

This is the second piece of news to stun Oberyn. “But the krakens are tamed now. The Lord Regent made sure of that. Unless of course this is no ordinary Kraken?”

The man smiles. “Good you are not slow my prince. Yes this kraken has what you Westerosi would call a crow for an eye. He has begun trading with the Archon in secret. Providing news and information on certain things. It is through him that the Archon hopes to begin his campaign.”

Oberyn nods filing away this information and then asks. “You said you know where the Magister is. Well where is he?”

The man stands then and says. “Come with me and I shall show you.”

Surprised Oberyn stands then and follows the man to the doorway of the tavern. He remains silent as they walk out of the tavern though he does put his hood up. They walk through the streets of Tyrosh, some long and winding, others narrow and short. All of them bustling with life, there might be a new Archon in power who is looking to bring the place down to its knees, but the people will always continue to go on about their business. They begin an ascent to a steep hill and Oberyn grits out. “How much further?”

“Not much further my prince. Just up at the top of this hill and then we are there.” his source responds good naturedly.

As they begin reaching the top of the hill, Oberyn begins feeling slightly out of breath, he is not entirely sure why. He has ensured that he is not out of shape, his job would not allow such a thing and yet here he is beginning to breathe heavily.  Eventually they reach the top of the hill and Oberyn is glad for that, his breath is coming out in sharp, harsh gasps and it is beginning to unsettle him. But of course they do not stop, they continue walking towards the manse, which is decorated with silver and gold.

They reach the outside of the manse and there they find a man dressed in orange and gold, with a forked beard standing waiting for them. “Ah good, you have come.” The man says.

Oberyn looks at his source then and asks. “He too has come to find the magister?” his suspicions are beginning to grow now, something is going on.

The man with the forked beard responds. “Oh no my good man, I am the magister that you are looking for am I not?”

Oberyn looks at his source and gets ready to curse when his source says. “I am sorry my prince but this was the only way I could ensure that he did not do anything.”

Oberyn looks at his source with something akin to disgust, forcing the man with the forked beard to laugh. “Oh come now my prince, do not look so disgusted. The man did as you asked, he has brought you here to my home. And now I believe there is something you wished to ask me is there not?”

Oberyn looks at the man and asks. “Who are you truly? I know you are not just some cheese monger. There is more to you.”

The man with the forked beard claps his hands then. “Ah very good. Straight to the point I very much like you. You are correct in assuming I am not just some cheese monger. And whilst I confess cheese is most definitely a growing industry, it does not hold my interest as much as this does. For you see I am the descendant of a man who fought long and hard to see justice done.”

“Bittersteel.” Oberyn says more to himself than anyone else.

“Oh yes, you see, my family has spent many years in exile and now we are coming out from the darkness.” The magister responds.

“You will not get very far. None in Westeros remember you or your family. Your ancestor is used as an example of greed gone too far. Why should anyone support you?” Oberyn snarls.

He can hear his heart beating in his ears now. The magister smiles.

“Lies brought forward to prevent the truth from coming forward. But you already know the truth don’t you my prince? You served alongside one of our most trusted generals and learnt many truths from him. Why it would seem some might even consider you a true loyalist with some of your actions.” The magister responds.

“You are trying to confuse me and it will not work.” Oberyn snaps. “I am not a green boy.”

“Ah but by the way your breathing is slowly becoming heavier, you know you have not much time. And with you gone, on a mission for the throne more chaos shall be sown. Accept it my prince, your time is done. You can see your sister and her children now.” The magister says.

“I will kill you first.” Oberyn manages to sputter out, he staggers forward and then falls to his knees.

The magister laughs. “I think not my prince. Soon enough you will sleep and never waken again. There will be no more pain and no more suffering for you.”

Oberyn looks at the man before him, his vision getting steadily more blurry. “Why…” he chokes out.

“Because you took something from me, something that was very precious and because killing you means that there will be more tension in Westeros. The lion and the sun now will be looking for more means to remove one another. And the wolf will struggle to cope now without you there.” the magister responds.

Oberyn tries to talk but all that comes out is a gurgling noise. His mind is scrambling for some sort of defence, his body is screaming out in agony and all he can do is stare at the man before him, his fork beard looking silver in the pale light, his hair, gods that can’t be right can it? His vision is blurring rapidly now, he can see ghosts from his past, his mother and his half brothers and sisters who all passed from this world before Elia, and then there is Elia looking as beautiful as she did on the day she was married. His hands reach out touch his face. _You are nearly home Oberyn my love. Soon you shall be with me again._ His sister’s voice echoes in his mind, gods he wishes to see her again.

Somewhere far away the magister’s voice comes through. “End it now Aegor.” And he sees through the blur the source of his bend down and slit his throat. The blood comes pouring out as Oberyn falls to the ground.


	57. Hell Hath No Fury

**3 rd Month of 289 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lady Ellaria Sand**

Dark Wings, Dark Words that was the saying whenever a raven came. And the raven that had come from Tyrosh had brought more than just dark words, it had brought her whole world shattering down around her.  Oberyn, her love, her soul, her very self was gone, dead, poisoned, and she knew not what to do. She had received the word from Lord Rickard, the Lord Regent and her grief and anger had been all consuming, she had not known what to do. The hardest part had been telling their Sand Snakes- for though Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella were not her blood they were as good as her daughters- that their father was dead. The girls had had varying reactions, Obara had sworn a bloody vengeance, as had Nymeria, whilst Tyene had remained silent and peaceful, Sarella and Elia had cried fitfully, though Ellaria was not sure just how much they understood of it all.

In the midst of it all, had been her own grief and anger. She wanted answers and she wanted them now. She had her own suspects as to whom could have had her beloved Oberyn poisoned and top of that list was the smirking lion who sat as hand of the king. She had been preparing to make moves against him when word had come from Sunspear. Her love’s brother Prince Doran urged caution and had asked that some of the girls return to the Water Gardens for their safety. Doran had all but said that he did not truly believe Tywin Lannister powerful enough to have Oberyn killed away from Westeros, and that it was necessary for her to find out more before they acted. She listened to his advice albeit reluctantly.

Ellaria was willing to allow caution but as for allowing the girls to return to Dorne now in winter, she had refused that and was now speaking to them, well the three eldest girls about what their plans were. As always with her sandsnakes there was some debate and discussion. “Patience is what Prince Doran has advised girls, and it is patience that we must have. Right now things are too tense, one wrong move and everything shall go wrong.”

“So we are just supposed to sit down and twiddle our thumbs whilst Tywin Lannister gets to roam around King’s Landing knowing our father is dead? I think not. He has drawn first blood, it is time we bloodied him and his golden children as well.” Obara fumed.

“And where pray tell, is the absolute proof that Tywin Lannister did this deed Obara?” Ellaria said. “Yes, Martells and Lannisters have not been the best of friends since Elia and her children died. But to kill Prince Oberyn in such a manner would no doubt draw attention and suspicion to him, and despite what we might think, Tywin Lannister is not a complete fool.”

“So he will get away with it then? Even though we all know he did it!” Obara fumed. “The proof is in the fact that the man waited until father was away from Westeros to kill him.”

“Father did always say that if a man knows you are his enemy he will wait until you least expect it to have you removed. And this is what Tywin Lannister has done.” Nymeria, always the most perceptive of their Sandsnakes says.

Ellaria sighs. “And then when the man lies dead before you what would you do? All eyes and suspicion would be brought before us then, and the blame would fall squarely at our feet rightly. We cannot afford to draw too much attention to ourselves right now.”

“So we are to just sit back and allow things to go as they would normally? I had never thought you were like uncle Doran, Ellaria. I thought you had fire and drive.” Obara said.

Ellaria is somewhat stung by the accusation she sees in Obara’s eyes and she reminds herself that the girl has lost her father before responding. “Your uncle has been planning things since the day he learnt of Elia’s death in the sack of King’s Landing. Oberyn’s death has only spurred him onto furthering his plans. But I would not have asked to remain here if I had not thought we could do somethings of use.”

At this Obara’s eyes widen and she asks her voice soft. “What sort of plans do you have?”

“We must gather information and learn what we can about what happened in Tyrosh. Already I have begun looking through your father’s notes and reports to see if there is any clue there. Whilst we cannot completely rule out Tywin Lannister, it would be foolish to go after him now. Wait until things have simmered down somewhat, and then when the time is right attack.” Ellaria responded.

“What are your plans?” Obara asks again.

Ellaria sighs and says. “You are a warrior Obara, and it is in that skill I need you. You are going to serve as our guard, along with the other men part of your father’s guard here. But you shall be the main eyes and ears that I rely on. Gather information you can from the sparring yard and report back. Fight and injure those whom Lannister relies on to inforce himself in King’s Landing.” Obara nods seemingly pleased. Ellaria looks at Nymeria then. “Nym, I want you with me when I go about the court, charm those who you do not know particularly that Tyrell woman it will be important to have her on side. Sooner or later she will be needed and I suspect you will be more to her tastes.” Nymeria nods and then Ellaria looks at Tyene and sighs. “I need you in the Sept of Baelor Tyene. The Faith would be more than willing to have you with them, you will be my ears in the faith, use your skills to charm them my dear.” The thirteen year old Tyene nods.

“And when will you decide what to do about Tywin Lannister mother?” Tyene asks sweetly.

Ellaria looks at the girl and considers her answer. “Sooner or later the man will slip up, and when he does we shall be there to make sure he never gets back up.” The girls nod appreciatively at this and then Ellaria calls for Ser Mors Sand to stand guard alongside Oberyn’s former squire Daemon Sand, the lad who had just come back from Tyrosh. She moves from their rooms and walks towards the Lord Regent’s Solar, she knocks once and then enters.

The Lord Regent is sat at his desk looking over some letter or the other in the dim candle light, but stops when she enters, he stands and says. “Ah Lady Ellaria, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.” When they are both seated, there is a brief silence before the man asks. “Have you given much thought to what I said my lady?”

That the man has not bothered with needless condolences makes her think even more highly of him than she did when Oberyn was still alive. “I have indeed thought about it my lord regent. And I am more than happy to accept the position of mistress of whispers, on one condition.”

“And what would that be?” the lord regent asks.

“That when the time comes, you do not stand in the way of justice.” She responds.

The lord regent looks at her for a long time, and in the silence Ellaria wonders what this man is thinking. Eventually he sighs and says. “So long as you make it as discrete as possible I have no problems.” Ellaria nods and then the man asks. “Now what information have you gathered so far?”

“According to Oberyn’s notes it seems he had tracked the magister as far as Tyrosh, but had lost his trail from there.” Ellaria responds.

The Lord Regent nods. “That would explain his willingness to go to Tyrosh. What more have you been able to deduce?”

Ellaria thinks for a moment and then says. “There is a connection between the Magister and Rohanne of Tyrosh that much was made clear by some of Oberyn’s findings. What the connection was I am not sure, but it is there, and that was why the man was in Tyrosh.”

The Lord Regent grumbles then. “That damned woman’s name always keep appearing. How many pies did she have her fingers in?”

“It would appear to be quite a few my lord regent. She had a lot of children both before and after the rebellion. And now they are coming back to haunt us.” Ellaria said.

The man nods. “It would appear so. Is there anything more you have discovered on this issue?

Ellaria considers this a moment and then says. “Nothing that could of use at this present time my lord regent.” The man nods and then Ellaria asks a question she has wanted to for some time. “My lord regent, if you do not mind me asking, why did you name me mistress of whispers?”

The man looks at her a long time before he speaks, and when he does his voice is slow and considerate. “Because you have proven to be a valuable ally my lady. Prince Oberyn often remarked on how it was due to you that he knew so much about what was happening in the Red Keep. I wish to use your services for the good of the kingdom and to ensure the King can live until he is old and grey. That we have a mutual enemy also helps.”

Ellaria nods. “But will this not bring issue to the other members of the council? After all we both know how Maegor Targaryen’s council members reacted to his appointment of Tyanna of Pentos, to the post. And Tywin Lannister is not a man to suffer women lightly.”

Stark looks bemused at that. “Ah but you are not Tyanna of Pentos and I am not Maegor the Cruel. Tywin Lannister is Hand that is true, but he does not have as much power as he would like, and your appointment to the council means his power is further reduced.  He will not like it, but with the other members of the council having supported my decision he cannot do anything that would further jeopardize his position. You are safe my lady.”

Ellaria nods then. A silence follows for some time afterward as they both consider the direction they are going in now. Eventually Ellaria speaks once more. “There is one more thing my lord, what do you intend to do about the issues with the Faith? That was the one thing Oberyn and I were both intrigued about.”

“And why is that my lady?” the regent asks.

Ellaria smiles. “Because the Faith have been trying most desperately to get us to appeal to you regarding the king’s education, they fear that you are trying to remove them from their place at the left hand of the King’s Court. And I want to know what you wish for my role to be in that struggle?”

“Prince Oberyn had a daughter by a Septa did he not?” the regent asks.

“He did indeed, Tyene is her name. Why ever do you ask?” Ellaria asks, though she suspects she knows where the man is going with this.

“I have a source within the Faith that has told me that the High Septon is looking to wield considerably more power over the smallfolk and the lesser nobility than he currently does. I need someone who has the wiles and the charm to undermine the man whilst also working alongside him. Whom better than a daughter of the Red Viper himself?” the regent states.

Ellaria looks at the man before her, and sees just how determined the man is to ensure that his grandson controls everything when he comes to maturity. She is silent a moment before responding. “I believe such a thing could be done, and would suit both our needs. I shall speak with Tyene and see how she feels about seeing her aunt once more.”


	58. Lady Antebellum

**5 th Month of 289 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lady Catelyn Stark**

It had been six years since she had married Ned, six years in which she had come to know her husband and feel something more than just simple fondness for him. She was not afraid to admit that she loved her husband, and that he loved her. They had shown each other well enough during these long cold winter months. When she thought of how she had worried over his coldness in the early days and whether she would have been happier with Brandon, she shook her head in wonder. Together she and Ned had had four wonderful children, their little wolf cubs. Robb who was filled with a boundless sort of energy that reminded Catelyn of her brother Edmure when he had been that age, Rickon who had even more energy than Robb and was wilder as well, Sansa her sweet daughter who was the perfect lady in everything, and their newest pup Arya, who looked like Ned, and certainly howled like a wolf when she was unhappy.  

Of course her goodmother and the royal party had been in Winterfell when she had given birth to Arya, and her goodmother the Lady Lyarra had been of some comfort during the pains, whilst Ned had fretted. Her goodmother was an impressive lady, a survivor of what Ned called one of the darkest periods in Winterfell’s history, and she was shrewd lady who had a tongue that could make any woman and even an experienced soldier blush red. Catelyn was very fond of her and would be sad to see her go. As for the King, her nephew Jonothor was a sweet lad, filled with as much energy as Robb was, and was a very inquisitive child always wanting to know more about things. Truly he was a joy to have in Winterfell, filling the halls with childish laughter. His two companions, Harwyn Greyjoy and Loras Tyrell were also interesting. Harwyn Greyjoy was Lord of the Iron Islands but was a very shy child, rarely speaking and mainly following the other boys in their play, seeing him meet his uncle Theon had been a tear inducing moment as both boys had looked at one another and then hugged as if they never wanted to let the other go. Loras Tyrell was a bit of an annoyance filled with cockiness and arrogance that truly disquieted her.

The rest of the royal party was somewhat of an annoyance for Catelyn, well those who came from the crownlands were. They were demanding and often complained about things that were beyond her or Ned’s control. There was much and more that Catelyn wished she could say to these ignorant lords who complained about things that if they were to try and fix would end up bringing to an end countless years of tradition. The lords from the riverlands who had come from King’s Landing were somewhat better, and had reminded Catelyn of home for which she was happy, though she missed her father and brother something fierce.  Winter was beginning to wane though, and she knew that soon enough the royal court would return south, but she did wish for one more moon with her goodmother so she could learn all she could.

As it was, they were sitting together watching the children play about and Catelyn took this time to ask some questions she had been meaning to ask. “My lady, I have been meaning to ask for some time, and as Ned knows little on the subject, I was wondering if you would be able to tell me more on Edwyle Stark,. I have read much about Winterfell during and before my time here, but he is rarely mentioned and I was wondering why that was.”

Her goodmother is silent a moment and then asks. “How much do you know of the She Wolves of Winterfell Catelyn?”

Catelyn ponders this and then says. “I know that they were five Lady Starks who were contesting the issue of the succession of Winterfell following the death of Beron Stark. Why do you ask my lady?”

“Do you know whom they were Catelyn?” her goodmother asks. Catelyn shakes her head, and her goodmother continues. “I am not surprised you do not. It is not a period that is well remembered or even talked about here in the north, but it is a period that has shaped the north ever since.  The She Wolves of Winterfell were Lorra Royce, Alys Karstark, Serena Stark, Lyanna Stark and Mariah Stark. They were all fierce ladies, who would give many of these northern roses a run for their money. And they all believed their side of the family should be the ones to rule Winterfell. Now this of course caused problems, Lorra Royce was from the south and her ways were somewhat foreign to the north, and as such she relied heavily on her goodmother to ensure that support was there for her children. Serena Stark had the benefit of being Lord Cregan’s actual heir and having the support of House Manderly and House Umber.”

“Was there a war?” Catelyn asks.

Her goodmother shakes her head. “No, but it came very close to one. There was a lot of bickering and fighting within Winterfell and the surrounding lands but not war was fought. Serena Stark had one thing that Lorra Royce did not have she was a Stark on both sides and her son Torrhen was a man grown and a proven battle commander. Though of course there was talk that he had had Lord Beron stabbed at the end of the war with Dagon Greyjoy. And though Lorra and Beron had seven children they were all relatively young and in this time of uncertainty it was argued that a man not a child was needed.” Catelyn nods. “Eventually it took the intervention of a hedge knight and his squire to ensure that the true Lord of Winterfell could come to the winter throne. Donnor Stark became Lord of Winterfell in 217 A.C. after the deaths of Serena and Mariah Stark and their offspring, and yet Donnor did not survive long. He died in 219 A.C. and some say he was poisoned. His own brother came to power later that year, and that is where things begin to get interesting.”

“Are you suggestion Lord Willam the Wise poisoned his own brother?” Catelyn asks surprised.

Her goodmother laughs. “Oh there is no doubt he did. Donnor was a lack wit somewhat, Willam was everything a lord should be and he knew how to use that to his advantage. He rebuilt the north and so everyone forgot how he became Lord. But when he died his brother became regent for his young son Edwyle. And this is where the tale becomes dark.” Catelyn looks at her goodmother then intrigued. Her goodmother pauses a moment and then continues. “For Artos was known as the finest swordsman of his generation but he carried a dark secret, he was more Bolton than Stark. And he worshipped a strange god that some called evil incarnate, and he passed this worship on to his nephew.”

“What worship was this?” Catelyn asks though she wonders if she truly wishes to know the answer.

“A worship of a god so foul that to speak its name now would be to invite evil to Winterfell.” Her goodmother says. “Let us just say that this worship caused Edwyle many a problem. He was a tyrant cruel and bloodthirsty, he would have made Maegor the Cruel look tame. There were many days where he would execute people by the dozen simply because he could and none would question him. That was where my husband comes in. for you see for much of his young life Rickard’s mother had sheltered him from the evils his father committed but then she died trying to bring another son into the world, and there was no one to protect Rickard from his father. The man did things that no boy should ever have done to him, and when the time came Rickard rebelled against his father.”

Catelyn is shocked by this and she says. “I…I.. did not know that. It was never mentioned and Ned never speaks of it.”

Her goodmother sighs then. “That is because the children do not know of it. We both promised we would not speak of it to the children when we had them, because there are some parts of the past that must remain unspoken. The generation of lords who was around when Rickard rebelled either died during that rebellion or are too young to remember the rebellion. It was not something the north needed to know after the years of the She Wolves. And so it was forgotten. But that is why no one speaks of Edwyle Stark. The man was a monster who was removed in the only way Rickard could think of to remove him.”

“Is that why he was so determined to see more involvement in the south? To remove himself from the horrors he had seen as a child?” Catelyn asks aloud.

Her goodmother nodded. “We were weak after all of that. We needed strength and these alliances gave us the strength to rebuild and grow strong again.”

Catelyn looks at her goodmother then, sat there having lived through hell and come back on the other side. She wonders how she would have fared in such a situation and thinks that she would rather not know. Then she looks to her children playing with their cousin, running around screaming and laughing as little children do, and she swears to the gods never to allow any harm to come to them. As if sensing her thoughts her goodmother speaks. “Rickard is determined to not allow any harm to come to the children. Had Rhaegar Targaryen not been such a fool this promise would have gone from the beginning. Alas he was not as smart as we all hoped, and now we are here. But there will be no more fighting.”

Catelyn looks at her goodmother and asks. “How can you be so sure? There is nothing in life as certain as death mother, I know that well. But there is joy to be had, but men are such that they will always find reason to fight with one another.”

Her goodmother is silent once more, and Catelyn finds her thoughts drifting to the images she had seen in a book lying about Winterfell’s Library. The sign of a fived headed beast fighting a wolf headed man, the blood on the ground and a poor and twisted shape in the corner crying for life. She wonders what that could have meant, but she does not ask her goodmother, for she knows that there are some things that should not be spoken of. Her thoughts turn to her father and her brother down in Riverrun, dealing with all the troubles there and she hopes they remain safe and protected. And then there is Lysa in the Vale whom she has heard not a word from in all the time she has been in Winterfell. She wonders how her sister is getting on, with her husband her son, and whether or not she found the happiness they both craved as girls.

Her thoughts are drifting now, and she looks towards the boys playing some game or the other, Sansa tottering after them on her little legs. And she smiles, this is what life is, this moment right here, with her children, carefree and nothing more than the next thing for them to do on her mind. She does not want for there to be anything more to concern her other than that. But she fears there will be more, there will most definitely be more. Ned had already mentioned having to travel back to the Wall to speak with Lord Commander Mormont, and she worries for him, truly she does. There have been strange tales coming from the wall.

She is taken from her thoughts when her goodmother says. “You asked how I could be so sure that there will be no more war Catelyn. And I will tell you the answer. Because those who would cause harm to us are going to die, one by one they will die.”


	59. Now The Rains Weep O’er His Hall

**Seventh Month of 289 A.C. Tower of the Hand**

**The Mystery Girl**

Her whole life had been geared towards this purpose ever since the father had taken her from her little village of burnt ruins and the wreckage of the lord’s palace. He had trained her and schooled her in the ways of the nobles, the high folk with their strange accents and even stranger ways. She knew how to charm them, how to get them to like her, and how to use them. She had been in this game since she was no more than two and ten namedays old, and now she was a woman grown and she was finally getting ready for the thing her whole life had been geared towards.

The father had told her of the evils of the lion lord, with his mass execution of the innocents who were merely true believers of the seven, and not the ones responsible for the lord’s choices. But the high lords did not care for the small folk, they were just pawns and things to be ignored by the high lords, the old lion in particular, and the father was determined to change that to get his revenge. The mystery girl knew all she could about the lion lord, about his childhood and how he had grown angry with his father’s weaknesses and how he had learnt prudence and practicality at the court of the dragon, and how the only thing that could break his icy façade was the lioness. She learnt how he had craved her presence during his time in King’s Landing and how she had obliged him on more than one occasion. Together they were working on bringing about the fall of the dragons, but then the lioness died and so did the lion’s heart.

And that was when his weaknesses began to show through. He had kept it a secret during his marriage, but the old lion was as big a hypocrite as his father was a weakling, he allowed himself to engage in carnal pleasures whilst condemning those who did the same. And this was how the father intended to get to the old lion, for the mystery girl was of course a whore, and she had been trained to know all she could about the old lion so that she might win his eye and approval when he came to Chataya’s. that she had done so was more of a success than anything else, and so she had been the old lion’s whore for these past two years learning all she could as he fucked her and did things to her that made her want to claw her eyes out.

The old lion had a strange habit of talking to her once he was done using her body. It was something she had come to understand he did as a means of getting his stress and his thoughts out into the open, and she had found that as a woman, he found her a soothing presence. Tonight was no different. “The Lord Regent thinks I know not of all the schemes he has for my removal. And yet when the news of the red viper’s death came, he did not point the blame at me. Still I am no man’s fool and the deaths of many of my guardsmen are undoubtedly the work of the Dornish whores.”

The mystery girl nodded and asked. “What will you do about them my lord?”

“It is not the insolent little girls that are the concern it is their mother. Once she is dealt with there will be no direction for the little girls. They are being kept on a leash by their mother, once that leash is gone, then they shall try to become more than they are, and that is when I will have them removed one by one. I have my own men and women in service who will do the deeds.” The old lion said.

The mystery girl nodded and then inquired. “There is more that bothers you my lord, I can see it in your shoulders.”

It was true the old lion was as taut as an old bow string. He sighed then and leaned back allowing her to massage his shoulders. As he sighed, he spoke. “The Regent is gaining too much ground. Far too much ground, the High Septon has not done his job properly and now the power base is slipping. I must give credit to the man he has certainly played his cards right.”

“And what will you do about him my lord?” the mystery girl asks.

The old lion is silent then, and it is in these moments of silence that the girl takes the chance to ensure that the weapon she has is within hand’s distance. The lion speaks then. “The same thing I did to all else who tried to remove me from this game. There is enough information on the regent to have him removed from King’s Landing and sent back to Winterfell without the need for a war. He is a good man, but no northerner should ever rule in King’s Landing.”

Before she can respond, the old lion pulls her into him and begins kissing her. And in that moment the girl senses that something is not quite right, the man is acting as if there is something wrong, but she has done all she can to ensure he does not suspect anything. He kisses her, and she finds herself getting aroused as sometimes happens, she curses herself and her weakness but allows herself to moan and begin moving on his side. He helps her onto him and then they begin again.

The girl is lost in a bliss of love making and in the midst of this haze that comes from the man she forgets why she is there, she cries out his name again and again, and when he finishes inside of her, he kisses her and then flips them over so that he is over her and then they begin again. And oh gods is it pleasurable, it should not be, but by the gods it is. So very pleasurable.

Just as she is about to reach her peek, the old lion stops and looks at her through hooded eyes. “I should ask you where you come from, but I find I care not. So tell me, my lady, what would you do in my position?”

She is somewhat taken aback by the question and takes a moment to form a response. “What would I do for what my lord?”

“If you had enemies at every side, what would you do? How would you escape from this predicament?” the old lion asks.

The girl considers this for a moment, as the man twirls a strand of her black hair, and then says. “Someone I knew once said attack is the best form of defence. I would use what information I had on these enemies and use it to break through their vice like grip.”

The man kissed her lips then and when he broke away he said. “You are as smart as you are beautiful my lady. Would that you were not a whore I might’ve actually taken up with you properly. But of course such a thing is not possible. And whilst attack might be the best form of defence, one needs allies to bring to the table as well. And I sadly seem to have been left bereft of allies here. Those who have not been bribed at least.”

The girl looks at the man leaning over her and then asks as softly as she can. “Perhaps it would be better to work with the regent than against him?”

The old lion grimaces slightly. “I have been working with the regent these past six years my lady. And in that time little has come from it. Now is the time to strike whilst the king is away and the court’s eyes are turned towards the riverlands and the north. If I am to regain power it must be done then.”

She nods and says. “There is smartness in that approach my lord. But what of your son and daughter? Would they not benefit more from being on good terms with the regent?”

The lion merely laughs then, he moves from the bed and goes to where the water is, keeping her eyes on him, the girl reaches out for the weapon she had kept concealed behind the man’s books, when her hand grips the handle she pulls it across to her and keeps it hidden behind her. The lion speaks then as he pours them both glasses of water. “It is an interesting thing, to see one’s children grow up. I had such high hopes for both Jaime and Cersei, and whilst Jaime had lived up to them in some regards Cersei has failed miserably to live up to anything resembling what I had hoped for her. Perhaps she truly was more of her grandfather’s spawn than she ever was mine. As for that imp, the sooner he dies the better things will be.”

Her gut clenches at the mention of the imp, she had met him once or twice, and he had always been kind to her. She keeps her voice neutral when she asks. “And why is that my lord?”

“The thing is not worthy of the Lannister name, and when I have full control I shall deal with him accordingly. Now enough talk let us, resume our previous activity.” The man downs his water in one, and then moves toward her, the girl does the same and then tightens her grip on the knife behind her.

The man gets onto the bed then and begins working his way up her body, kissing various parts of her and setting her own fire, nearly making her lose control, but when he gets to her face, he stops and looks at her. “You know there was something about you that reminded me of someone I once knew.” He pauses and then leans in to kiss her, and that is when the girl pulls out the knife from behind her, the training the father gave her comes in useful as the man is so intent in kissing her he does not see the knife until it has already slit his throat.

The man looks at her, his eyes wide as blood begins to fall. The girl looks at him and says, “I am sorry my lord, but there are some things which must be done for the good of the realm.”

The old lion falls to the side, blood staining the sheets, the girl gets up then, and puts the dagger on the table beside the bed. She then gets changed into her clothes, a simple dress, and picks up the dagger and places it in the old man’s cold hand, and then walks towards where the father had told her to go. She knocks once, and the door opens, and a man stands there looking at her with concerned eyes. She points to the body and says. “It is done.”

The man looks at the body and nods, then pulls her by the hand through the doorway and into the passageway. They walk in silence for a long time, with her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing is strangely level considering what she has just done, they continue walking until they come to a place where dragons dance and a woman is waiting for them. The woman has pale blond hair and green eyes. “It is done?” the woman asks. The girl nods. “You placed the dagger where I told you to place it?” again the girl nods. “Good now we must leave before they find the old man in his bed bleeding. Tywin Lannister’s death will cause a lot of debacle within the court.”

The girl nods and then follows the woman and the man down the passageway and into the docks where they board a ship, and it is only when they are on the ship that the man speaks. “You did well Tysha, very well.”

 


	60. One Man, One Goal, One Vision

**7 th Month of 289 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

He missed his wife, truly he did. Apart from the rebellion and the war of the ninepenny kings they had never spent this long away from one another. He and Lyarra had grown up together and had pretty much done everything together, and he was convinced that when the time came they would leave this world together. And whilst he missed her something fierce, he was happy that she was enjoying herself in their home, and that she was getting along well with their gooddaughter and their grandchildren. He was also happy that Jonothor seemed to be getting along well with his cousins, it was important that the pack remained together and strong. For soon enough the darkness would come and they would all be tested.

With the death of Tywin Lannister, it seemed things were beginning to fall into place for Rickard. One enemy had been removed, and now it was time for Rickard to begin consolidating his power. Of course with Lannister dead, there were a litany of things that Rickard had to do, one of them was finding out how the man had died and whom could be potentially responsible for the deed. And whilst Rickard had his suspects he wanted to speak to the Grand Maester and the Mistress of Whispers before reaching any conclusions. That was why he had asked them here to his solar to discuss the matter. “So maester, have you been able to clearly decipher how the man died?”

Grand Maester Ebrose nods. “Yes my lord regent, the man did not cut his own throat as was first thought, the angles and the side of the cut were too misshapen for it to be a self-inflicted wound. Hence I must say that the man was killed.”

Rickard considers this a moment and then says. “And yet there was no evidence that anyone was with him before his body was found. So whoever it was who did the deed must have been well trained and would have known just what they were to do.”

At this he looks at the mistress of whispers, who merely shrugs. “It was not from Dorne, that this blow was dealt my lord regent. Though we had every reason to remove the man, if it had been someone from Dorne, the method would have been much more subtle. All I can say is that the man had a slight reputation for sleeping with whores.”

This takes Rickard back and he looks at the mistress of whispers and says. “The Hand slept with whores? I was of the opinion he was like to hang someone who slept with a whore, rather than do it himself. How do you know this?”

The mistress of whispers looks at him with a smile on her face and says. “I have my contacts my lord regent. And they speak often of how the hand would come to the brothel known simply as Chataya’s through the secret passageway in the tower of the hand and chose whores from there who either reminded him of his wife or of some woman he had known in his past with black hair. He had chosen one whore two years ago who had black hair and whom the hand was said to remark reminded him of his wife with her personality.”

Rickard takes this in, and then asks. “And when was the last time that the hand used this woman’s services?”

The mistress of whispers looks at her notes and says. “Yesterday my lord hand. His servants report that she entered his chamber through the secret passageway after the evening meal and was there waiting for him when he got back.”

Rickard nods. “And does this girl have a name?”

The mistress of whispers nods. “Tysha my lord regent. A girl who was picked up from the Westerlands herself and used and trained by a man known simply as the father. It seems she was the hand’s favourite whore for he used her services almost exclusively from the time he collected her to the time of his death.”

“And do we know why she might have killed the hand?” Rickard asks though he already knows the answer.

“It seems the hand was most aggressive with her my lord regent. And this might well have been a retaliatory attack. Though the girl was seen entering a ship with two other people one a woman and the other a man. Both with blond hair.” The mistress of whispers responds.

“So it seems that Tywin Lannister’s bastards have finally come to hit him hard. I wonder what they hoped to gain by doing this.” Rickard says. “After all there is not much that I would be inclined to do for them with Jaime Lannister having shown himself to be a loyal servant to the king.”

Lady Ellaria speaks then. “It is possible they were simply trying to remove their father from their way to ensuring chaos in the Westerlands my lord regent. After all we know that many lords have begun chafing under Tywin Lannister’s command. Now this gives them the perfect chance to rebel and test Ser Jaime. It also serves the eunuch’s purpose as well.”

Rickard nods and then decides to move from this topic. “Indeed that is true. How many people know the truth of the hand’s death?”

Lady Ellaria is silent a moment and then responds. “The news is spreading fast as is the fact that he might well have been killed. There will be no point in covering that news up my lord regent.”

Rickard considers this a moment and then says. “Very well then. We shall not cover anything up, pin the blame for his death on the same person who killed Prince Oberyn. Blame Lord Triston Massey. The man has not been seen, and that can be put down to the fact that he has fled the kingdom. Anyone who finds him will be rewarded.”

The Lady Ellaria nods and then Grand Maester Ebrose speaks. “My lord regent, whilst it is all well and good deciding what is to be done with Lord Tywin’s things, a new hand must be named and soon. Otherwise the vultures will begin circling.”

“You speak the truth maester. And as such I have spent the past few days since the hand’s death deciding whom to name as hand of the king. As such I can think of only one candidate who would be truly suitable. Hoster Tully, the Lord of Riverrun shall be the new hand of the king, and I wish for you to send the raven out inviting him to King’s Landing to accept the position today.” Rickard responds. The man nods his acceptance and then Rickard asks. “And what news is there from the citadel Maester? Have they reached a conclusion on when this winter shall end?”

“Word from the citadel is that it shall end very soon my lord regent. In fact they believe spring is soon to be upon us within the next moon or so.” Ebrose replies. “There is one other matter that my colleagues at the citadel have been speaking of and that is a request to further their studies of dragons and dragon eggs.”

Rickard’s eyes narrow at this, he has heard of the rumours of the citadel conspiracy and thinks of the eggs in Rook’s Rest and in the Vault. He considers his response before speaking. “To what end do they wish to examine dragon eggs? I was not aware that there were any left.”

The maester smiles then and says. “My lord regent there are more eggs than we know off still in existence. There are some here within King’s Landing that are an open secret, and my brethren in the citadel merely wish to examine them, and to see what lore there is about dragons here.”

Rickard knows the eggs the man speaks of and so he says. “Very well, they may come here once winter is done. But they cannot stay for too long. I do not want more suspicion being raised.” The maester nods and then stands and leaves for the rookery.

Once the man has gone, Rickard is left alone with Lady Ellaria, and the two sit in a companiable silence for a moment before the lady speaks. “Is there anything more you wished to speak with me about my lord regent?”

Rickard is silent a moment and then responds. “Just ensure that you and the girls are safe. With Lannister, dead others shall begin looking at you and wondering.” The lady nods and then stands and leaves.

A few moments later the door opens and Ser Gerold announces Lord Wyman Manderly, his friend is a big man who is slowly turning to fat. He smiles at Rickard when he enters and then sits down. “My lord regent,” he says cheerfully. “I trust all went according to plan?”

Rickard nods. “It did indeed Wyman. The man is dead and shall remain dead. Have they been paid?”

Wyman nods. “They have my lord regent in full. The girl has been dealt with and now Ser Lann and Lady Myrcella are making their way back to Essos where they shall feed the man who thinks he is their true master what information we told them to.”

“Very good. I admit I was sceptical at first of using them for this purpose, after all they did almost remove Jonothor on Tywin’s orders. But I suppose there was too much lingering resentment for them to truly ever consider following him again.” Rickard says

His old friend smiles in appreciation. “Indeed, it seems Tywin Lannister was all for using the tools available to him, but he never for one moment stopped to consider whether or not it could come back to hurt him. His dismal treatment of the bastards led them straight to us my lord regent. The death of their brother spurred them into further action. They shall do as we bid now and continue to act as our eyes and ears in the eunuch’s camp.”

“Good, you have done very well Wyman. I trust they shall not be an issue for us later on?” when the man shakes his head Rickard continues. “There is one other matter that I wished to speak to you about.” The man inclines his head and then Rickard says. “My father.”

Lord Wyman’s face goes completely still then and Rickard knows he is reliving the horrors of that time. His voice is soft when he asks. “What of him my lord regent?”

“I fear that the ghosts from that particular point in time are going to come back to haunt us Wyman. Lyarra wrote of speaking to my gooddaughter about my father, and it seems she has been seeing the same things I have been seeing.” Rickard responds.

“I had thought they were non-existent though my lord? That they needed blood and sacrifice to keep growing and to not lose their strength. How can they possibly be coming back now?” Wyman asks.

“I know not old friend, but I suspect that there is more to this than we had first thought. Regardless I do believe that sooner or later a time will come where I must return north and destroy the shrines that are there remaining in Winterfell.” Rickard says.

His friend nods. “That makes sense my lord regent. After all, the sooner you remove them from Winterfell, the sooner they will begin lessening in power. Such a return could be of the utmost detriment to our plans.”

“Aye, that is very true. They cannot be allowed to be brought back, otherwise who knows what evils will come forward.” Rickard summarizes.

His friend stands then and bows, leaving the solar and leaving Rickard to his thoughts. As he ponders over the next few moons, he wonders what has caused this sudden re-emergence of a thing that he had long thought dead. What could it possibly mean if they are coming back now, the dreams are terrifying, but actually seeing them again, by the gods that would be more horrifying than seeing his father consorting with one. It must not happen, unless, they can be used for his own benefit.


	61. Sins Of The Father

**9th Month of 289 A.C. Casterly Rock**

**Lord Jaime Lannister**

There were times when Jaime could still not believe that he was a father, that he had children and that he was married. He often found himself pinching himself to ensure that this was not just a dream. Thankfully it was not, and he thought himself the luckiest man alive for getting the chance to wake up next to the most beautiful woman in Westeros, and to get to watch his children grow. Gods the children, how he cherished them, Arthur was two namedays old now, and was filled with a boundless sort of energy, constantly tottering around on unsteady legs exploring the Rock, whilst the twins, Tommem and Joanna new-borns were night and day of one another, Tommem quiet as a mouse and Joanna loud and demanding. His pack was growing and he was thoroughly content with his children, he was just determined that Tommem and Joanna did not end up as he and Cersei had.

And then the news had come from King’s Landing and Jaime had felt as if his world had turned upside down. Writ in the hand of the Lord Regent, came word of his father’s death, a murder it seemed. The murder was being pinned on a whore named Tysha- why was that name so familiar? - Of course Jaime felt a lot of conflicting emotions over this news. At once he felt sadness and anger, his father was dead, and no matter what sort of acts he had committed he was still his father, his blood. The murder of the Lord of the Rock should not go unpunished, and yet there seemed to be nothing going on to bring justice, that angered him.  But then there was the feeling of relief, the guilt ridden relief that at least now his father was gone, and the shadow he had cast for his whole life could slowly be removed. He was not sure which emotion he felt more strongly. And of course it did not help that there were so many conflicting opinions on what their response should be. The meeting with his uncles, aunt and sister as well as Tyrion and Ashara was just a prime example of this.

“Whoever did this must be found and brought here to the Rock to be tried and executed. We must show the realm that we shall not tolerate such things to occur.” His sister demanded.

“And how pray tell are we going to find out who did this sweet sister?” Tyrion asks. “I had thought the Lord Regent had already laid the blame at some whore that father was sleeping with.”

“That is a lie that the regent created to shame father’s good name. There is not a chance in the seven hells that father would sleep with a whore.” Cersei responds fiercely.

“How would you know that sweet sister? Were you there with father when he lived in King’s Landing? No you were here in Casterly Rock when you should have been in Castamere.” Tyrion bites back.

“Now dear brother, do not speak like that to me. But there are always those who could have done the deed and convinced the regent to blame some whore for some reason or the other.” His sister says with a sickening smile on her face.

“What are you suggesting?” Jaime asks suspiciously.

“Well we know for a fact that father made some very significant enemies because of the Sack of the King’s Landing. The Martells and the Dornish have made no secret of their loathing of father and our family. I would not be surprised if they had something to do with this.” Cersei says her voice dangerously soft.

Her eyes are looking right at Ashara and Jaime is not sure whether he likes that or not. “What are you suggesting Cersei?” he asks.

“What I am suggesting is that, there is someone here from Dorne who was very close to Elia Martell who would have reason to have our father killed. And would also have the means of doing so.” His sister responds.

Jaime feels anger begin to bloom at that accusation. His wife however calmly replies. “Cersei, if I had wanted your father dead I would have done it with my own two hands. Regardless, I did not want to do anything to harm my husband or our children, and that is something that would have harmed them. I did not do this, nor did I have any hand in it.”

Jaime grasps his wife’s hand then and holds tight. His sister however, does not seem impressed. “Why should we believe you Dayne? You have never made it any secret how much you loath my father, and your brother and yourself were good friends with Elia Martell and the other Martells. Why would you not remove him?”

“Because I am not a fool. Unlike some.” Ashara replies.

Cersei stands up then her anger clear in her voice. “You dare! You, you who spread your legs for any man who looks your way.”

Ashara is about to respond when Jaime speaks then his voice loud and clear. “Enough! We cannot fight amongst ourselves. Cersei either hold your tongue or leave. We must discuss how we handle father’s death. If the Lord Regent says that he was murdered by a whore then he was murdered by a whore we must accept that. Now we must try and find out a way to settle things over with our bannermen.”

“There should be no issues with the lords. They know you are the Lord of the Rock. Any who stand in your way must needs be crushed.” Cersei says dismissively.

Aunt Genna snorts then. “Oh child, you know nothing of the ways of men. Now that Tywin is dead, lords who were chafing under his constraint will begin getting foolish notions in their head and will begin plotting and planning.”

“Why would they dare?” Cersei asks.

“Because these lords are men who are proud and who were stung by your father’s actions during the Great Council. Fear will only get you so far into keeping men loyal, and now that Tywin is dead, there is no fear anymore.” Genna says.

“Then Jaime must be the one to remind them why they should fear us.” Cersei says.

“If Jaime does that, then he is only asking for more trouble.” Tyrion says sagely. “These are men who have grown up with father’s harsh hand. They are now looking to break free from the chains that he put on them. Jaime begins acting like father there will be rebellion from the get go.”

“Lions do not care for the opinion of sheep. Father always said that imp.” Cersei sneers.

“And look what that got him. His throat slit by a whore. He always dreamed to high, and flew too close to the Sun.” uncle Tygett says. “It is time we stopped thinking ourselves completely apart from the rest. We are their lords and must act as such, but the way Tywin went about it was not the right way to do so.”

Jaime looks at his uncle then and asks. “What would you suggest uncle?”

“Speak with the lords, get to know their wants and needs. See if they are reasonable and if so act on them. The West was hit hard by the Ironborn and we have not fully recovered from that. For full recovery to happen we must be united, there is too much division amongst our lords and men. That must be stopped.” His uncle replies.

“So you would have the Lord of the Rock go to his lords like a beggar, with bow in hand? Pah, I did not know you were so spineless uncle. Perhaps the regent should have given Feastfires to Daven then.” Cersei sneers.

Jaime closes his eyes in exasperation, and when he opens them his uncle is stood up his teeth clenched. His anger is visible. “It is a prudent course of action you foolish girl. If you want there to be more fighting and disunity within the Westerlands, then very well go about doing as you have suggested. But if you want the West to be strong and united, then we must go about making the lords feeling valued.”

“We are lions not sheep. The moment we must worry ourselves about whether our lords feel valued is the day we should join the Casterlys and disappear from the maesters books.” Cersei says bitingly.

Aunt Genna speaks. “Tygett speaks the truth. When Tywin ruled that was the approach that was needed, but now, now perhaps a softer hand is required. And that is where you are perfect Jaime, a former knight of the Kingsguard, the soul of chivalry, oh yes the Lords will eat you up.”

“Yes, that is good. Jaime can be the face of the new Westerlands, and we shall do the real ruling.” Cersei says enthusiastically.

Jaime is surprised. “I am the Lord of the Rock. I know how to rule, and I will do so.”

Ashara squeezes his hand reassuringly, and yet Aunt Genna speaks then. “Jaime, sweetling, you are better with a sword than at politics. Otherwise you would have dealt with those damned septons and Caustarians a lot more efficiently. This is a job for myself and your uncles and sister to deal with.”

Cersei speaks then. “Yes, Jaime you can play the knight and we shall do the ruling. Leaving you to be the face of the new Westerlands.”

Uncle Gerion speaks then for the first time. “I believe that this is the wrong way to go about things. Jaime is the Lord of the Westerlands, it is time he did what any good lord does, and deal with all aspects. Merely being the face does nothing.”

“And when have you ever done anything seriously Gerion? You have lived your entire life playing with the funds that Tywin allowed you to have.” Aunt Genna says.

“Still I am not the Lord of the Rock, Jaime is. It is time he did what needs to be done. His lords will come calling to him when they have a problem not to you, or to Tygett, or to Cersei. They will come to him, and if he does not know what is going on here, then you can be sure that they will rebel.” Uncle Gerion responds.

“Who will teach him the intricacies of dealing with these lords? You? I think not. No, now is not the time to begin teaching someone something new. Now is the time to consolidate power, let Jaime become the face, and we shall be the brains. And before we know it the Westerlands will be secure once more.” Aunt Genna says.

“I am my father’s heir Aunt Genna. I know how to play the game. I just choose not to. I did not wish to become associated with such darkness and corruption as there was in King’s Landing. Give me the chance to prove myself and I will show you that I am just as much my father’s son.” Jaime responds.

His Aunt Genna stands up then alongside his sister. “Well we shall see when the time comes Jaime. For now I must go and speak with Cersei about that fool husband of hers.”

Once they are both gone, Jaime looks at both his uncles and then asks. “When should we tell her?”

“When the issue is dealt with.” His uncle Tygett responds.

“Do you truly think Lord Kyndhall will actually go through with his threat? I did not think the man was so brash?” Jaime says.

“He is Kyndhall, they are all like that.” Uncle Tygett says. “The question remains as to whether or not he will truly get the support he claims he can. And if he does what you will do about it.”

Jaime nods. “If the man gets the support he claims he can get, then I shall have no option but to march on him and defeat him. I will not tolerate treason.”


	62. Master of Puppets

****

**11 th Month of 289 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

The court was if he was being completely honest with himself a much better place without Tywin Lannister and his lickspittles. There was less of a threat towards his own goals, and more unity now in the council and at court than there had been when the man had been alive. Of course there were still those who played the game in their own manner and wished to achieve their own goals, but so long as they did nothing too far reaching he was perfectly happy to allow them the chance to do as they wished. It helped, he supposed that Hoster had fitted in quite nicely into his role as hand of the king, and was working alongside Rickard to achieve their shared goals. With the King still in the north, there would be enough time consolidate things and begin preparing Jonothor for his true education.

Ravens coming from Winterfell were filled with good news. It seemed that the king had taken well to his northern roots, and was desperate to learn more about his heritage there. That was good, for it mean that Rickard’s plans were working and that soon enough there would be more strength in numbers for the Caustarian faith. As for the children in King’s Landing, well it seemed Prince Viserys and Renly Baratheon had taken a shine to each other, and were getting up to all kinds of mischief as boys their age were like to do. He was glad of that for it meant that relations were being smoothed over, though there was the concern of Stannis Baratheon and his god damned stubbornness.

That was one of the reasons why he had called the meeting of the small council. “Tell me there is something positive coming from the Stormlands. Tell me Stannis Baratheon has finally learnt he can’t keep enforcing such harsh laws and wondering why his lords are criticising him so much.”

Hoster speaks then. “Unfortunately not my lord regent. It would appear Lord Stannis has gotten only harsher in his laws and decrees. It seems that as well as banning the building or even use of brothels, the man has now begun raising taxes to a very, very high level to rebuild the Stormlands.”

Rickard sighs. “I can understand the need to rebuild the Stormlands, but it has been six years since the rebellion ended. Surely the man does not need to keep taxes as high as they were when he began his lordship now? Winter is coming to an end and there has been peace for some time now.”

The hand nods. “Indeed, that would be the case my lord. But it seems Stannis Baratheon is someone who wishes to exercise complete control over his lords, and is doing that by raising taxes and coming down hard on those who it seems cannot afford to pay them.”

Rickard sighs. “Which lords are complaining?”

Lord Hoster looks at his notes and then responds. “Lords Caron, Dondarrion, Swann and Selmy. All of them Marcher Lords, and all of them the ones most affected by the changes and laws that the man has implemented.”

Rickard runs a hand through his hair and says. “All of them his most important lords as well. By the gods, the man is infuriating. What more can we do apart from remind him that he needs his lords support to remain in power?”

“Nothing my lord regent. We must simply allow things to go as they would naturally.” The hand responds.

Rickard nods and then turns his attention to another large issue. “Now has Lord Triston Massey been found?”

Lady Ellaria speaks then. “No my lord regent. Though my sources do report that the man was last seen in Tyrosh speaking with the Magister.”

“So the man is just like his father, working alongside the Eunuch. Has Ser Gormon Massey stated whether or not he had a hand in his brother’s escape?” Rickard asks.

Lady Ellaria nods. “He claims he knew nothing of his brother’s flight from Stonedance, nor the fact that he was dealing with the eunuch and the magister. He has also offered to provide resources and men into finding where his brother could have gone.”

Rickard considers this and then says. “A wise man this Gormon Massey. Very well, write to him and tell him that we shall accept his offer. And if he proves to be useful he shall be named Lord of Stonedance.”

The mistress of whispers nods and then says. “Word has come from my sources in the Westerlands my lord regent. It seems Lords Kyndhall, Jast, Broom, Estren, Lydden and Foote have met together to begin plotting some sort of treason against Lord Jaime.”

At this Rickard looks at Hoster and then asks. “And what sort of treason have they been planning?” he suspects well what the answer will be but still he needs to know.

“All out rebellion. It seems that they are attempting to test Jaime Lannister and see whether or not he is truly his father’s son or not. It also seems they are attempting to break free from the chains they believe Lannister has put around them.” the mistress of whispers responds.

“Very well, let us see how the new Lord of the Rock fares against this lot of rebels. Should it come to it, we shall need to come to his aid. But I highly doubt that will be needed.” Rickard responds.

There is a murmur of agreement from the other council members and then with there being nothing more for them to discuss, the meeting comes to an end. Rickard stands and leaves the small council chamber, as he walks towards his solar, the visions begin filling his head once more. Of a wolf headed man fighting a creature of pure white, whilst a horned thing from his nightmares watches on. Of a half human half kraken dancing through the ribs of a sea dragon. The visions make no sense and as he enters his solar he feels very disorientated. He sits down and takes a sip of water, he then looks at Ser Gerold. “When is the High Septon meant to come here Lord Commander?”

“He is meant to be arriving in a few moments my lord regent.” The Lord Commander says.

Rickard nods and grounds himself for what is sure to be a rather unpleasant conversation. Ser Gerold walks to stand behind the chair where Rickard is sat, and then the High Septon enters. The man is tall, very tall, and broad chested, he would have been a warrior of some renown had he not joined the faith, the man of course seems to be like more of those golden haired shits, what with his golden hair and green eyes and the sneer on his lips. “Your holiness,” Rickard begins once the man has sat down. “Thank you for coming. We have much to discuss do we not?”

The high septon nods. “We do my lord regent. Foremost amongst them is the issue of what faith the King is going to be a member of. You have I see made no effort to try and curtail his worship of the trees that the northmen worship. This is somewhat of an impediment to developing a good relationship with him, considering the pact that King Jaehaerys the wise signed with my predecessor.”

Rickard looks at the man a moment and then responds. “The king has roots in the north, it makes sense for him to know his heritage, and if that includes worship of the old gods then so be it. But there is no need for concern as to whether or not the throne will continue to defend the faith for it shall. The King has been brought up worshipping both the old gods and the faith of the seven. He is learning the importance of the Seven. You need not fear that he will abandon his duty.”

The High Septon looks at him for a long moment before responding. “That is my issue my lord regent. There is only one true faith in Westeros, and that is the Faith of the Seven, every other religion is merely baseless heresy. The king either whole heartedly gives himself over to the Faith or we shall withdraw our backing of him, and begin to cause all kinds of problems.”

Rickard bristles at that. “You would bring more war, for something as petty as the open display of worship? Faith is supposed to be a private matter, why the need to show it off for the whole world to see?”

“We are facing difficult times my lord regent. It was written in the seven pointed star that this would come. When there would be a man known as the heretic to come and challenge the Seven who are one’s place on this world. We must stand together to prevent others from joining this heretic, anything less is nothing short of a dereliction of duty. The king must be shown as openly supporting the Faith, or nothing will happen and the moral decay of Westeros shall happen.” The High Septon says.

Rickard looks at the man. “And this could not happen without the need for unnecessary complications? The king can worship both the old gods and the Faith, and still provide the support needed to prevent the encroachment of rivals.”

“No. He must renounce the old gods, as must you my lord. Otherwise you shall lose the support of the faith and a war will be fought which will see the end of House Targaryen and House Stark.” The High Septon responds.

“Is that a threat?” Rickard asks anger creeping in to his voice.

“It is a promise. Written down long a go by Hugor of the Hill when he dreamt of Westeros. Do as I ask and all will be better, do not do as I ask, and fire and brimstone shall come for you.” The High Septon says, he stands then and walks out of the room.

Once the man is gone, Rickard sits alone in the solar, brewing over what has just occurred, the man that damnable man has just threatened the stability he had worked so hard to achieve. That voice, the voice he has tried to keep hidden away for so long comes crawling back up then, ice like in its tone. _You know what must be done, you have always known what needed to be done. Forget the southrons and their honour. They have threatened you and yours since the day you looked south. Embrace you who are Rickard, do as your ancestors did._  No, he thinks, I will not engage in that I am not my father. _You do not have to be your father to know there is sense in what I am saying. Do it and this will all end._ I will not become him, I swore I would never become him. I will not allow you to tell me what to do. Rickard thinks. _Admit it Rickard, you are sorely tempted to do as we suggest. Do not deny it, for to deny it is to deny your very self. And we both know how hard you have worked to ensure that does not happen. Soon enough someone will find the shrine and then what will you do?_

The voice stops then, and Rickard sits there stuck in a rut, wondering what to do. On the one hand that course of action removes the problem once and for all, on another it is not something he feels comfortable doing, mainly because it is something his father would have done, and he has been so determined to avoid becoming his father.  The threat to his grandson though is something he could not stand by. And so reaching a decision he calls Ser Gerold back into the room and looks him square in the eye and says. “Ask Septon Maegor to come to see me. Tell him it is time.” The man nods and leaves, and in his mind’s eye he sees the wolf headed man smiling its red toothed grin.


	63. Beckett

**11 th Month of 289 A.C. Red Keep/ Sept of Baelor**

**Septon Maegor**

He was glad to be back in King’s Landing, truly it was quite astounding just how much of a difference there was between the capital and the Stoney Sept. Why such a thing was surprising to him he did not know, he supposed it might be because he had never truly thought of it that way. There was so much more energy and activity in King’s Landing than there had ever been in the Stoney Sept until recently. With the arrival and rise of Causter, the Stoney Sept had become a hub of activity. There were protests and demonstrations almost constantly and Maegor knew that the man had the allegiance of the people of the Stoney Sept firmly within his hand.  In a way he supposed that was a good thing, for the man was everything Maegor had hoped for an more, he was devoted to the seven and he believed in removing corruption from the Faith something the current High Septon was opposed to. That the man was getting more and more support in the Riverlands was no surprise, there was growing disillusionment with the traditional faith in the Riverlands as the smallfolk so the corruption and greed of those supposed to aid them.

And so it was no surprise to him when he received the summons to meet with the Lord Regent. The man had given the go ahead for Maegor’s mission, and now he was wanting to hear whether or not he had been right to do so. As Maegor sat down and looked at the Lord Regent he could see that the man was growing more and more tired as the days went by, no doubt, the job was becoming more and more stressful, but they needed him to remain in good health. And so Maegor spoke first. “Thank you for asking me here my lord regent. As I am sure you know, my time in the Stoney Sept has been very useful and informative. I was able to gather some detailed information on the man Causter and have found that his goals and aims match ours.”

The Lord Regent nods. “And how do they do that?”

Maegor looks at the man a moment and sees just how tired he truly is. He takes a deep breath before saying. “Causter is a man who wants one simple thing. He wants to bring the Faith back to what it originally was. He wants simplicity and dedication, none of the corruption or greed that plague the Faith at present. The way he sees that being achieved is through peaceful means and a return to the beginnings of the Faith.”

The Lord Regent is silent a moment and then says. “So does he wish for our support in achieving his goals?”

“Yes my lord regent. He believes, as do I, that without the support of the crown, the Faith will be lost and buried. Each and every day there are more people joining him and abandoning the High Septon. In the Riverlands, Causter is near enough close to a High Septon that, if he asked them to, his followers would march on the Great Sept of Baelor and remove the High Septon themselves. That he has not done so, shows that he wishes to work with the crown and not against it.” Maegor responds.

The Lord Regent is silent a moment and then says. “That is good very good. And does the High Septon suspect your involvement in this plot?”

Maegor shakes his head. “No my lord Regent I do not believe so. The man believes that I am working hard to undermine Causter and his followers, whilst at the same time trying to undermine me by having a man spy on me. What he does not realise is that man is mine, and always has been.”

The Lord Regent smiles at this. “That is good. I have often thought that the High Septon was too much of a blithering fool to truly do much good for anyone. The sooner he is gone the better we shall all be.”

Maegor nods in agreement. “Aye, the man has been bringing down the Faith for far too long. His bastards are every which way you look, damning us all to the seven hells.”

“Are you prepared to do what must needs be done to ensure that the man is removed as quietly and as quickly as possible?” the Lord Regent asks.

Maegor nods. “I will do what is necessary to ensure that the Faith is secure and that these damnable Red Priests do not continue their march.”

“Good. You are going to be meeting with the man soon enough are you not?” the Lord Regent asks. Maegor nods, and then man continues. “Good, our two other members shall be with you during the meeting and when the time comes you must do it swift and true.”

Maegor smiles then. “Oh fear not my lord regent, I know how to do this. I have not gotten to my position by just being pious. This man will not come out of the meeting alive.” With that he stands and walks from the man’s solar. His heart is pounding somewhat, as he goes to prepare himself for meeting the High Septon in the Sept of Baelor. He schools his face to a unreadable mask and once he has said a quick prayer to the Crone for guidance he sets for the Great Sept.

The journey to Visenya’s Hill was largely uneventful there was hardly anyone out on the streets, and for a moment Maegor wondered why that was until he remembered the late hour. Eventually he arrived at the Great Sept, tired and weary but ready to do his duty nonetheless, he walked up the steps of the Sept and then was shown to the High Septon’s private chambers, where of course Septon Borros and Septa Unella were both present. Maegor inclined his head to them both before bowing before the High Septon. “Your Holiness, I have come as you requested.” He said.

The man nods for him to sit down which Maegor does gratefully and listens as the High Septon speaks. “Welcome back to King’s Landing Septon Maegor. I have read your reports and must say you have done quite well in ensuring the heretic Causter does not gain as much of a foothold as one had feared he might have. We are most happy with your service. But now we would hear the more detailed account.”

Maegor takes a sip of water and then says. “It seems this man Causter is determined to spread his heresy, he speaks of the seven as if they are individual deities and not merely seven aspects of the same one god. He speaks of bringing down the established order and allowing the commons more of a voice in how they are ruled by the Faith. I have taken measures to ensure that this message never reaches more than a few people. Those in the Stoney Sept who try to spread it are executed.”

“That is good, very good. And what means have you taken to removing this heretic from existence?” the High Septon asks, malice clear in his voice.

Maegor takes another sip of water and then says. “I have placed men I know to be true within his inner circle who report to me his every movement and his every word. He does not make a move without me knowing of it. I am waiting for him to come back to the Stoney Sept to try and reclaim his home. That is when he shall be killed.”

A lie of course, but the oaf before him eats it up. “Good, very good. You have done more than we thought you could ever possibly do. We are most pleased.”

Maegor dips his head respectively. “I am only doing as you commanded your holiness.”

The High Septon waves that away. “Oh nonsense. You have gone above and beyond what we asked of you.  You have done more to ensure the stability of the Faith as it is now than we thought possible, and now we wish to reward you.”

At this Maegor is taken aback and he looks briefly at Unella before asking. “Reward me Your Holiness? What could you mean?”

The High Septon smiles then, his eyes glowing with madness. “You have done well and the Seven see fit to reward you brother. The Stoney Sept is no fit place for a man who has done as well as you have. No, we think that either Lannisport or Oldtown would be the perfect seat for you.”

At this Maegor’s mouth falls open. Oldtown or Lannisport, and he would be one step closer to achieving the role of High Septon legitimately, but then his memory comes in and he knows why the man is thinking of sending him there. “I thank you, Your Holiness for the offer, I am most flattered but I have much work to do in the Stoney Sept and the Riverlands that cannot be done by anyone else.”

The High Septon laughs then. “Ah Maegor, you always did think yourself so high and mighty simply because of your blood. Have you not learnt yet that such things count for little in the face of the gods?”

Maegor stands up then anger as well as for what is to come next. “And you think you are so different to me? You who got in to the faith because your father bribed the last High Septon. I think not.”

The High Septon stands as well, his frame making him look like some sort of behemoth in the light. Septon Borros and Septa Unella stand up as well, moving to grab the weapons they had concealed. The High Septon walks towards Maegor then his voice mocking. “And what are you going to do about it dragon? Your family is not as powerful as it once was.”

Maegor looks at the man and snarls. “And your family is facing a rebellion as large as that of the Reynes. I do not think you are in any position to complain. You have brought the faith to the brink of destruction, and I cannot allow it to stand.”

The High Septon howls with laughter his whole frame shaking. “You will not stand for it? Pray tell me what you will do?”

Maegor looks at Unella and Borros and says simply. “Death. You have brought this upon yourself.” With that he moves in pulling the dagger from his cloak and shoving it deep into the High Septon’s stomach whilst Borros and Unella do the same from behind.

The man groans then and stares at Maegor with wide eyes. “What are you doing? This, this is madness. Borros what?”

“You are not the man you once were your holiness,” Borros says his eyes watering his voice wavering. “For the Good of the Faith you must die.”

The High Septon falls to his knees as they all pull away. “Who….who will replace me?”

“I will.” Maegor says before he slits the man’s throat. He then looks at his two conspirators and says. “We must move quickly now. You know what you both must do?”

They nod and so Maegor leaves the High Septon’s chambers and walks out as if nothing has happened when he comes to a crevice in the building he moves to it and changes into some normal clothes and throws the bloodied robes into the outside. He walks quickly out of the Great Sept and then walks towards the place where he had agreed to meet Unella. He finds her standing next to the statue of the Good and asks. “You have done what needed to be done?”

She nods. “Borros is dead. What will you do now Maegor?”

“I will become High Septon and ensure we survive.” Maegor responds before kissing her and leaving, never having felt so alive in his life.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           


	64. Rouse The Lion

**12 th Month of 289 A.C. The Lion’s Tooth**

**Lord Jaime Lannister**

Gods was he tired, the past few moons he had barely gotten any rest, what with looking after Arthur and the twins as well as dealing with issues within the Rock. It was a wonder he could even function, there were just so many things that needed to be done, and he was beginning to wonder how his father had managed to keep everything in place. It did not help, that Cersei was causing all kinds of problems as well, since he had ordered her from the Rock she had been complaining about some issue or the other forcing Jaime to travel from the Rock to Castamere more times than he would like, and more often than not she would ask for him to go to Castamere when her husband was not around. He had at first thought she had genuine concerns but when she tried to sleep with him during his last visit he had been furious, he had thrown her from his chambers and told her she was to never come to the Rock ever again. He had ridden out from Castamere later that night and had not spoken to her since.

Ashara of course had suspected something had happened at Castamere after his last visit and so she had asked, and having no desire to lie to his wife, Jaime had told her truthfully what Cersei had tried to do, emphasising that she had not succeeded. His wife had been horrified that Cersei had tried to do that to him and had not spoken to him for a few days, but then eventually the ice had thawed and they had spoken at length of everything that had occurred and why it had come to this. Ashara had been somewhat understanding, though she had said that she never wanted to see Cersei or have her near their children, Jaime had agreed and they had put the matter to rest. Any ravens Jaime got from Castamere either were ignored or given to Maester Bennedor to read.

Then the issue of taxes not being paid by House Kyndhall and their close kin the Footes had been brought to Jaime’s attention. And when he had sent ravens asking them both to explain themselves, some weak hearted excuse had been given and Jaime had suspected that something was going on between the two lords. When they had continued to refuse to pay their taxes to the Rock and had even had the audacity to lock up the collectors that Jaime had sent to see what was happening, Jaime had sent a raven demanding that they both come before him to explain what their problem was. The responding raven instead of being something positive had been a declaration of war, with Lords Kyndhall and Foote both renouncing their allegiance to the Rock, and breaking off. Jaime had waited to see whether they truly meant this and when they began attacking men sent out to patrol their lands, he knew they were serious. The fact that others had joined them was a concern, and so Jaime had called his banners and had marched towards the Lion’s Tooth where the enemy was to be stationed.

The lords that had come to his call were some of the powerful ones, his uncle Tygett, his goodbrother Tybolt, Lord Crakehall, Lord Lefford, Lord Brax, and even Lord Banefort had stirred himself from his castle to come. Jaime looked at them all and then spoke. “We all know where the enemies are, they are camped on the northern ridge of the Lion’s Tooth, looking to use the slopes and slants of the Tooth to throw us off balance and cause the army to break when it comes down. We cannot allow that to happen, we must draw them to our location. I would hear suggestions on how to go about this.”

As he had expected his goodbrother spoke first. “We set fire to their tents, we have the archers stationed on the northern boundary of the Tooth and have them fire down at the camps. That will drive the traitors right into our waiting arms.”

His uncle Tygett snorts at that. “Send men to the northern boundary and they will be slaughtered, Foote knows the Tooth better than anyone. He will have guards posted there, and sentries. The archers will die the moment they set foot on that ground.”

“Then what do you suggest? That we wait and cower whilst they continue rebelling?” Tybolt asks a sneer in his voice.

Jaime looks at his uncle and sees that he is deep in thought. “We must look to draw them out, that is the only way we shall be able to beat them. The Lion’s Tooth is too slope orientated for us to truly be of use there. No, fire is not the solution we must give them a target something that will make them want to come out and run for their lives.”

Jaime’s goodbrother snorts. “A target? That is your solution. I thought you were a great commander. We know not of any targets that could make these men come fleeing for their lives.”

Jaime looks at his uncle and then at Lord Banefort. “I would not be so quick to laugh away the suggestion my lord of Castamere. Lord Banefort, you said you had resources here that could be put to good use. Is that still the case?”

The Lord of the Banefort, is a strange case for Jaime, a man of medium height, with dark black hair and one green eye and one blue eye, he is a silent man by nature and seems to have an eerie quality about him. His armour is black as is the hood attached to it. His voice is so soft they all have to strain when he responds. “Yes I do believe they can be put to very good use my lord. I just need to know when you wish for me to begin work.”

 Jaime looks at his uncle quickly before saying. “Aye, well you have my leave to begin doing what you need to do.” The man stands, inclines his head and then leaves the tent.

A few moments pass in silence and then Lord Crakehall speaks. “Are you sure trusting Banefort is a wise move my lord? He is many things but he never truly came across as trustworthy to me.”

Jaime considers this for a moment and then responds. “It is not a case of whether or not the man is trustworthy my lord. We are at war, the man has a way to bring us our desired result, I would be a fool not to take it.”

“Even if he uses dark magic to get us to where we wish to be?” Tybolt asks.

Jaime looks at his goodbrother dismissively and says. “Old wives tales told to frighten children. Now, when Lord Banefort has let loose whatever he has planned, Lord Crakehall you shall command the left and begin the march towards the base of the Lion’s Tooth, wait for the sounds of battle to reach you before destroying whatever stragglers come forward.  Lord Brax you shall have the right, you shall join me in the fight on the main body of men that come down from the Lion’s Tooth. Lord Lefford you shall have the reserve.”

All those involved nod and then get up and leave the tent, leaving Jaime to his thoughts. As he waits for the news that Banefort has started whatever he is supposed to start he begins wondering over whether or not there is any truth in the old wives tales that say the Baneforts control an army of thralls. He does not know whether they were mere exaggerations or if they were based in truth. Whatever the fact, Lord Banefort seems convinced that whatever it is he is doing, it will bring the rebels streaming down from their campsite in great enough numbers for Jaime and his men to cut them down.

Eventually his squire Sandor comes to inform him that all is in order and that Banefort has released whatever he had to. He nods, and Sandor helps him into his armour, the golden armour he had been given by his father upon turning fifteen and newly knighted. It still fits somewhat, though he knows he will need to get a new suite made soon enough. Once all is in place, he takes his lion’s head helm from Sandor and mounts his horse. That done, he rides out to the front of the army, where the vanguard and the right are assembled and already he can see the chaos that Banefort has caused.

Men bearing the arms of House Foote, Kyndhall, Jast, Lydden and Estren are fleeing down the Lion’s Tooth, being chased by what looks like to be mindless smallfolk, but that can’t be right why would Kyndhall’s own people turn against him? Unless there is some truth to the tales about the Baneforts. But he cannot afford to dwell on that for too long and so, placing his helm atop his head, he raises his visor and roars a command, and then he and his men are charging into take the unsuspecting enemy. Jaime draws his sword and swings it like a mad man, one swing brings a tired looking man down to his death, another swing takes off a big brute of a man’s hand, and another swing removes a man’s head.

The heat of battle is upon him and Jaime is determined to ensure that the traitors pay dearly for what they have done. He swings his sword and begins the killing process, over and over. One man falls and another comes to take his place only to fall before the Golden Lion’s blade, his sword is stained red, and the battlefield is littered with fallen bodies, their blood beginning to pool and form a miniature stream. Still more and more men come charging down the Lion’s Tooth, desperately trying to get away from beings who seem to be possessed, they attack the enemy, but never come close to attacking men fighting for Jaime. He does not have enough time to ponder the question though, as more and more men continue to pour down the Tooth and into the waiting snake that is the Lannister army.

Men are falling to their deaths, the slopes of the Lion’s Tooth meaning that they often fall down to their deaths, due to being plucked off by the villagers who are coming down with dark eyes and a hooded look about them. It’s almost as if they are in some trance like state, they know what they are supposed to do but they do not know where they are. Jaime feels distinctly unnerved by it all, mainly because he cannot find Lord Banefort. Of course his own concerns, mainly fighting and killing those who manage to escape the fate of death by villager, come to the forefront. He clashes blades with Lord Estren and the man is as old as him but a much poorer swordsman, after some three bouts, Jaime cuts him open from head to foot and moves onto cutting down his army piece by piece.

He kills what he imagines to be the whole of House Estren during the course of the battle, he has killed Lord Estren, his two sons are no older than squires and yet they come in his path and though he feels bad about it afterward he cuts them down all the same, this is war there is no time for sentimentality during war, as his father taught him. House Estren dies out on the battlefield, as for House Foote they are slaughtered, Jaime kills Lord Foote himself a simple thrust through the chest, whilst his uncle Tygett opens up the man’s heir from stomach to leg, and so on and so forth. It is a slaughter, the men coming down from the Lion’s Tooth are not sure where to turn, run northward and they will be hit by lions, run southward and the mass of villagers that seem possessed will get them.

Eventually it seems led by Lord Kyndhall they run right, and flee through the gaps in the army, Jaime is tempted to send men after them but suddenly Lord Banefort appears his eyes glowing. “Let them be my lord.”

“Why?” Jaime asks.

He swears the man’s eyes turn red when he says. “Because my children need to feed.”


	65. On An Island

**3 rd Month of 290 A.C. Winterfell**

**Eddard Stark**

The halls of Winterfell seemed empty now, without the royal party here. There had not been all that many people with his nephew the king and his mother, but there had been enough for there to be a sense of community and family once more. The little children had especially been a source of joy, Ned’s nephew was a bright boy, smart and curious about the world, he hoped that the lad would have a happier future than either his mother or father. And it seemed King’s Landing seemed to agree with his mother as well, she seemed happier than she had been for many a year in Winterfell. Ned knew his own children were missing the king and his companions, Robb and Rickon had especially been sad to see them go, losing their companions as it were had made them slightly more sullen, but they had recovered quickly. As for Theon, he seemed to have been very happy to see his nephew once more, though he had since retired from activities that he usually partook in.

Ned had in fact been quite worried by that and so had spoken to Maester Luwin about it, and had been reassured that there was nothing wrong with Theon except perhaps mere homesickness. And so he had let the issue lie and had decided to allow the lad come out of his shell on his own accord. Very slowly life was returning to normal in Winterfell, and Ned was increasingly growing more content with it. He was in love with his wife, and she was in love with him-he hoped- and their children were beautiful and growing every day. Gods so long as he never had to get involved in another one of his father’s schemes he would be content and happy.

Of course it seemed as though the world had some way of dragging him into things he’d rather not have to deal with as this conversation he was having with his wife and maester Luwin reminded him. “Tell me what the issue Lord Farwynd is raising is again and why he seems to consider it of such import?”

The maester looked at the letter before them and said. “He wishes to build a temple to his god, the Grey King but is facing opposition towards it because of some part of the temple would impede on the Flint Lands. As such he argues that the Flint lands will soon be his as Lord Flint is ailing and is not going to survive long.”

Ned runs a hand through his hair and then asks. “And will Lord Flint survive long enough to have issue or not?”

The maester is silent a moment and then responds. “I believe not my lord. The man took grievously ill after his mother died, and as such has been in this state for the past few years. The whole reason why there are objections to the temple being built, is because the other members of House Flint worry that this worship of the Grey King will go against what they strongly believe in.”

Ned sighs once again and then asks. “And has Lord Farwynd claimed that he will not allow for any further worship of the Old Gods once he becomes Lord of Flints Finger? Will he only allow for the worship of this Grey King of his?”

The maester shakes his head. “No my lord he has not said anything of the sort. Instead it seems he is desperate to achieve some measure of unity between the two faiths. He states in this letter that he will never attempt to convert anyone, but those who wish to convert are welcome to do so.”

“And of course the Flints are taking issue with this. They are either strongly towards the Old Gods or this new faith that my father seems to be encouraging to develop amongst the southern northern houses. Well, there is nothing that can be done that will allow for their fears to be soothed they will just have to trust that Triston will not try to encroach on their faith. As he has not done these past few years.” Ned responds.

“The Flints of Flint Fingers are one of the most powerful lords in the north my lord, and though Lord Flint is ailing, it is certain that the man’s uncle will press his claim to prevent someone from the Iron Islands taking control of the lands. A middle ground must be found to prevent there being an all-out conflict when Lord Flint dies.” Maester Luwin states.

“And what middle ground would that be? Farwynd will want this temple, and any objection I raise to that will make it look as if I do not trust him. But allowing Flint to refute the building of the temple would go against Farwynds right as the lord of the Fingers. There is no middle ground.” Ned complains.

 The maester shrugs hopelessly then, but it is Cat, his beautiful and smart wife who responds. “Why not allow the temple to be built right to the border of the lands between Farwynd and Finger, and then when Lord Flint passes allow the issue to be brought up again. After all, by virtue of his marriage to Lady Denora, Lord Triston is the next Lord of Flint’s Finger. He will have the right to do as he wishes then, if his wife so consents.”

Ned looks at his wife then and nods. “Aye that makes the most sense right now. Luwin, write to both Farwynd and the Flints and tell them that Triston may build his temple to the border and no more, there is an cave where Farwynd’s land ends and Flint lands begins, that is to where the temple may go, no further. And remind Lord Flint’s uncles that Denora is the heir to the Finger not them.”

The maester nods and writes that down and then says. “There is one more issue my lord. The matter of the traveller. He is coming to Winterfell soon enough, and it seems he brings with him trouble.”

Ned feels fear grip him then this traveller was bad news word had come from all over as to what he was and the dreams were beginning to make sense, he felt Cat grip his hand underneath the table. He takes a deep breath and then asks. “What sort of trouble maester, what has he been doing?”

Maester Luwin is silent a moment and then he says. “It seems he has been preaching for the true divinations of the old gods. That if one wishes to be a true follower they must practice the sacrifices of old, they must make sacrifices before heart trees. But not only that every third born child must be sacrificed as well, for the gods are hungry and crave the innocence of children.”

Ned hears his wife gasp beside him and he squeezes her hand under the table. “And which god does he suggest they sacrifice to?”

“Some horned god that he claims will be the saviour of the world when darkness comes. He speaks complete nonsense my lord and he also speaks in riddles. None of the major lords have allowed him to stay in their walls apart from Lord Bolton. And even then the man only stayed a night before leaving.” The maester responds.

Ned feels his anger grow, of course Bolton allowed the man to stay, the man’s father was some sort of mad man, he remembers Benjen’s story well and in that moment he knows what needs to be done. “Send word to Theo Wull, he and his men are to capture the traveller and to bring him to the Wolf’s Tower. He is not to set foot in Winterfell land. I will not allow it.”

The maester nods and then bows and takes his leave, leaving Ned and his wife alone together. They are silent and then Cat asks. “Who is this traveller Ned, and why is he doing such horrible things?”

He looks at his wife then and he can see the fear in her eyes. He squeezes her hand. “You do not need to be afraid Catelyn, my love. The man will never come to Winterfell, but for you to truly understand why he is such a danger you must understand some of our earliest myths. My mother told you of the she wolves of Winterfell and of my grandfather did she not?” his wife nods and then he goes on. “Well this is something not even she knows. Something that only my father and I know, not even Benjen knows of it. The story of our earliest origins.”

“Your earliest origins?” his wife asks confused. “I thought House Stark claimed descent from Brandon the Builder.”

“We do my love we do. But there is an even older legend as it were. Our sigil is a direwolf, and there are some tales that claim there is a very personal reason for that. It is not just that the direwolf was a strong and dominant animal when the first men came to Westeros, but because the two were linked.” Ned says slowly, not sure exactly how to explain this.

“How so?” his wife asks.

Ned swallows and says. “There are stories, and I am not sure whether they are myth of fantasy, but there are claims that there were first men who grew tired and weary one day during a journey to where Winterfell now stands, and they fell upon female direwolves, now it is claimed some spell was cast over the direwolves to make them look like women to the men. And well, the men were tired and had not seen a woman for some time, and they ended up mating. This union produced abominations that were half wolf and half man, the formation of my house it is said.”

His wife looks equally horrified and confused by what he has just told her. “But what has this got to do with the traveller Ned? It is only a tale.”

He nods. “Aye that it is, but that is what this traveller believes. He believes that there is more to us than anyone remembers, and his goal is to find something that none has ever found.”

“And what is that my love?” his wife asks.

“The place where the first of this supposed abominations was born. Here in Winterfell.” Ned says.

His wife laughs then and says with a glint in her eye. “Why don’t we go and see if we can find it.”

Ned looks at his wife a moment and then stands up, aiding her as well and they soon leave his solar and begin looking in all the places Ned once looked for the supposed place with his brother. They start with the broken tower but there is nothing there, they look within the castle itself in the stone where the Builder supposedly first sat and ruled and there is nothing there. They continue wandering around the castle laughing, sometimes playing with the children and then taking them to their lessons, but in all that time they find nothing and do not think to feel anything but surety that they will not find anything.

And then for reasons he cannot quite explain he leads his wife to the ruin that is the first keep. He has not been here since he was around thirteen, and yet something draws him to the keep and its ruins, there is some ancient power here, the place where the hall would once have stood is a mess of broken statues and pillars, there is nothing completely remarkable of it, and then he hears his wife gasp beside him, he turns to look at her and sees her pointing at something.

“Is that, is that the place Ned?” his wife asks her voice soft.

Ned looks at where his wife is pointing, there is a carving of a wolf and a man, and a babe, with a wolf’s head and a man’s body, and the long ago echoes of a birth are marked on the ground. And somehow he knows. “Yes…yes it is.”


	66. The Afterman

**3 rd Month of 290 A.C. Casterly Rock**

**Lord Jaime Lannister**

The rebellion, the short lived Kyndhall rebellion had come to an end. A rather innocuous end it had to be said, but it had ended all the same. Lord Banefort’s followers had done most of the work, something that had both grated and pleased Jaime, for it meant there was less work for him and his own men to have to do, but it was not also the honourable course of action. Kyndhall and his son and heir had been captured, the others had either been slaughtered during the fighting or had also been captured. And now it was time to decide what to actually do with them, Jaime would have liked to have gotten this over and done with a few moons ago, but because of the ending of winter and the beginning of spring they had been delayed coming back to the Rock.

Now with spring firmly in place, it was time for the rebels to face their punishment, and if he was being true to himself it was something he was somewhat looking forward to. There had been many different opinions voiced as to what should be done with the rebels, his aunt Genna and his goodbrother Tybolt had pushed for them to all be executed and their lines to be wiped out but Jaime was not his father and he would have a Rains of Castamere on his conscious. His uncle Gerion and brother Tyrion suggested sending them to the wall, but that was too lenient by father, and so he had decided on another course of action. Which was why he had called this meeting of the court. The lords had come from different parts of the Westerlands to see what sort of man Jaime was, and whether or not such treason would be tolerated. He hoped they would get the message.

There talking in the hall came to an end when Jaime cleared his throat. Looking at all those in front of him he took a deep breath and said. “My lords and ladies, I thank you all for making the journey here. With winter finally having left us, and the dawn of spring, it is the time to make some clear changes to the way things are done here. My lord father, Tywin Lannister is dead, his body lies interred in the hall of heroes. We have entered a new age some things will be different but there is one thing that shall not change. Treason, against Casterly Rock or the Iron Throne shall not be tolerated. Ser Benedict bring in the traitors.”

The hall which had been silent as he spoke erupted into whispering as the doors opened and the traitors were brought into the hall, Kyndhall and his son walked in with their heads held high, whilst Lords Jast and Lydden walked in with their heads bowed their shoulders stooped. The fact that there were two major houses lacking was proof of the effectiveness of Banefort, Jaime would have to speak to the man when this was done. The traitors were brought to a stop at the foot of the Lion’s throne where Jaime sat. He looked down at all of the traitors and said. “My lords, you know why you are here. You committed treason by reputing your allegiance to Casterly Rock and the Crown, and by rebelling you cost the Westerlands much needed peace and stability. What do you have to say in defence of yourselves?”

Silence follows his question and it becomes deafening as it stretches, someone in the audience coughs and just as his patience is about to give way, Lord Kyndhall speaks. “I say we did nothing wrong my lord.” That last word is said in a mocking manner. “We did nothing wrong in rebelling, for it was not treason we committed, it was justice. For too long the lords of the West have been under the controlling thumb of Casterly Rock. Your father was a mad man and a tyrant, and you are nothing but an oath breaker and a Kingslayer. Why should we have to do you fealty when we can be free of your control?”

More whispering follows this statement and then Jaime asks. “And you truly believe that you could have survived without aid from the Rock? Are you mad or merely delusional?”

More whispering, Kyndhall’s voice is loud and bold when he responds. “I am neither Lannister. I am merely stating a fact, you might think you are safe and secure here in the Rock with your gold mines, but sooner or later your mines will run out and then what will you do? None like your family in the rest of Westeros, your father saw to that, as did your sister. Soon enough the whole of the kingdom will know just how much a Lannister is worth.”

The whispering grows louder, “Speak clearly or not at all traitor.” Jaime snaps.

Kyndhall laughs at that. “Me? A traitor, what of you Lannister? Who slew the king he swore to protect, who abandoned his people to the wills of the wolf? You who allowed that necromancer to come and work his evil on us. You are no true westermen. You are an abomination!”

Jaime can feel his anger begin to grow. “You are the traitor here Kyndhall. You refused to aid in the rebuilding of the Westerlands, you caused this trouble for selfish reasons. Your house shall lose all its prestige because of this. Now do any of you other traitors have anything else to say?”

Lord Lewys Lydden speaks then. “What is to become of us my lord? Will you do as your father did and remove us and our houses from the very face of this planet? Or will you show more compassion?”

“Compassion?” Jaime says incredulously. “You rebel and bring danger to my home and to my people and you ask for compassion? If it were my father sitting here you would all be dead and your entrails would be dangling from all the trees in the Westerlands. But he is not here, and I am a more just man than he.” He pauses giving them hope and then. “House Kyndhall is left to just Lord Kyndhall and his son, and so shall be executed for being the leaders of the rebellion. Their castle on the Lion’s Tooth will be dismantled and its incomes will diver to the Rock. Lord Jast you and your two eldest sons are to take the black, and your youngest son will become a ward here in Casterly Rock. Lord Lydden you are the last of your line and so shall be spared, but half your lands are now the Rock’s as well as half your income, and when you have a child it shall come to foster here.” These are fair judgements he thinks, he knows his aunt and goodbrother are not so happy with them but what do they matter? “Take the prisoners away.”

Once that is done Jaime spends most of the day hearing petitions for this piece of land, that stream to damn and so on and so forth. It is quite tedious, but he is determined to prove his aunt and sister wrong, he is more than just a pretty face. He is determined to show them that he knows how to rule, that he paid attention when father was lecturing him on gods alone knows what. He believes he has done a fairly decent job when court comes to an end for that day, and when he steps down from the Lion Throne he feels somewhat relieved. He checks in on his wife and their children, and content that they are well he retires to his solar for another important discussion.

Lord Horton Banefort is an enigma to Jaime, a man of medium height, with dark black hair and one green eye and one blue eye, he is a silent man by nature and seems to have an eerie quality about him. And yet today he is the man who speaks first. “You want to ask me about the people I used to fight during the battle of the Lion’s Tooth do you not?” Jaime nods and then the man asks. “What do you wish to know?”

He considers for a moment before asking. “There are many legends about people from your house Horton, some say you Baneforts are magicians, some say you practice blood magic, and some claim that you lot are other things, darker and more dangerous than those that have been mentioned. I want to know which is true.”

A silence follows that and as it stretches Jaime feels his impatience begin to grow, eventually in a voice as soft as a whisper Horton Banefort speaks. “Would you believe me if I told you it was all true Lord Jaime? The tales and the legends? I do not think you would. You would laugh and call me mad, as your father did all those years ago.”

Jaime bristles somewhat. “I am not my father, I had thought that today would have been ample proof of that.”

Horton Banefort smiles. “Ah yes, the drive to differentiate yourself from Tywin Lannister. An admirable move, but one that I must ask is it being done with the right intentions. Your father was a good man, he was a great leader and yet he paid for his toughness. You have the potential for greatness yet are held back by the need to uphold some code of honour that does not exist. Why is that?”

“We are not here to talk about my being Lord Horton. We are here to discuss you and what I saw on that battlefield.” Jaime snaps.

The man’s smile is still in place and Jaime can feel himself growing more and more frustrated. “Oh but we are,” the man says. “For the moment you realise what you are you doing and why you are doing it, is the time we shall come to discuss why you needed to speak with me.”

Jaime can feel his anger now throbbing through him. “Must you talk in riddles man?!”

“I am merely speaking the truth as I see it my lord. It is you who must figure it out for yourself.” Banefort says, and though Jaime is sorely tempted to throw the man out of his solar he allows him to stay.

As he brews over the matter, he considers all that has happened to him over the past ten years, from being knighted and joining the Kingsguard, to slaying his king, to falling in love and marrying and that is when it hits him. “I want to be different from my father, because my father was never like me and grew to become a monster. And I never want to be the monster, I always want to be the hero.”

Banefort’s smile only grows bigger at that and he says. “And there you have it my lord. That is why you are doing as you do. And now you wish to know about what you saw during the battle do you not?”

“That would be nice yes.” Jaime grumbles.

Banefort laughs. “Yes, that would make the most helpful to you would it not? Well you saw the men and women that were fighting under my command. They were not only under my command, they are the things that keep my house in control of our lands and people. They are the armies that have been keeping House Banefort in power.”

Jaime looks at the man confused. “I do not understand my lord. How does that work?”

The man is silent a moment, the feeling of the conversation has gone quite serious. “The legends of the hooded man are true my lord. We are the army of slaves, thralls and demons. We are the armies that will help you keep the Westerlands, we are the ones who guard the secrets of the lions and soon enough the time will come when you will need to know them.”

“Secrets what secrets?” Jaime asks.

“Soon enough you will know. But beware the lioness in the red lion’s den my lord. She is more dangerous than you know.” Banefort replies before standing and leaving.


	67. I Will Come For You

**5 th Month of 290 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lord Triston Farwynd**

Life in the north was far better than anything that he had experienced at Sealskin Point, there was none of the constant danger that he was going to get drowned for not following the strictest of doctrines that some seaweed haired man. No here in the north whilst there was some level of uncertainty about him and his ways, at least the northmen were accepting of him and who he was and what he followed. They did not seek to openly challenge him as many had challenged his father on the islands, and for that he was eternally grateful. He supposed that it helped that Denora was his wife, for she was a fierce lady and someone who would undoubtedly rip anyone who questioned them and their allegiance to Winterfell to shreds.  Of course that did not stop some from questioning him and why he was still alive, there were times of course when he wondered why he was still alive and then that voice would come back.

The Grey King was never one to remain quiet for long, and he had begun talking to Triston again after a lengthy silence, when word had come of Triston’s goodbrother’s failing health. The Grey King was persistent in saying that Triston and his wife should push his wife’s claim to Flint’s Finger, otherwise when the crow came calling there would be no hope for them. Triston had been sceptical, he was not even sure if the other lords of the north would accept such a thing. For whilst he had earned their respect he was still an outsider in many ways, still Ironborn, and that was something none of them were like to forget. But the Grey King had been insistent, and so he had pushed, he had talked with his wife and Denora, ever faithful and true Denora had said that if the Grey King was telling them to push for the Finger, then they should do so.

This was all something Triston and his wife had had to consider and how it would affect their children. Their eldest son Eddard was but three years old a quiet lad, but someone whom the Grey King kept telling him was destined for great things, Triston did not want him to get harmed and he knew just how volatile some of the northern lords could be. Their daughter Lyra was only two years of age and already she was showing signs of being fierce and a fighter just like her mother, and Triston looked forward to seeing how she turned out when she was a maiden grown. And then there was their youngest Lynessa, who was a babe, but a sweet one. Triston wanted to protect them all, and yet the Grey King was urging him to do something that could potentially but them all at risk. Compared to the horrors that would supposedly come when the Crow came back, Triston was torn.

That was why when Lord Eddard had asked him as well as Lords Flint of the Mountain Clan as well as of Widow’s Watch he had been relieved. This would give them all a chance to voice their opinions. Right now Lord Eddard was speaking, and Triston tried to calm the rapid beating of his hear to listen intently. “You are all here because there is the issue of the succession of Flint’s Finger to discuss. Lord Flint is ailing, and we all know that with this type of sickness there is no cure. He will die, and by the laws of the land Lady Denora is his heir and the true successor to Flint’s Finger. And yet there are two competing claims coming forth from Lord Ferrick Flint of the Mountain and Lord Robin Flint of Widow’s Watch. I would hear what both of you have to say to oppose this and we shall begin with you Ferrick.”

Ferrick Flint was a big man, as tall if not taller than Triston’s grandfather, and his grandfather had been a giant of a man. His tone though was oddly soft. “It is not that we do not like Denora or even you Triston, after all you have proved your mettle. It is a matter of principal. For centuries the Ironborn have caused us nothing but grief and to think of allowing one to rule the Finger does not sit well with me.”

“I would not be doing the ruling though Lord Ferrick. Denora would. You have met my wife, she would no sooner allow me to help her rule there than she would to tell me how to man my ship. You need not fear that.” Triston replies.

The Flint laughs, a booming laugh. “Aye that is true. And yet my head would be adorning a spike if I allowed you to go through with this. My people are fierce warriors, and they have a deep rooted hatred of Ironborn that has not changed in many years.”

“My family never did yours any harm Lord Ferrick. Besides the lands of Flint’s Finger would belong to one of my girls after Denora, and if you are truly so worried about it, then why not look to betroth one your many grandsons to one of my daughters to ensure it goes back to Flint hands afterward.” Triston asks.

“A valid suggestion my lord.” Lord Eddard says. “There is no reason to truly worry about Triston taking command of the Finger. For we have all met Denora and she is a fighter, she will not allow control to slip from the way the Flints of the Finger have been ruling for many a century.”

Lord Ferrick seems to be considering this one hand stroking his beard and then he says. “If you can guarantee me that it would be Denora and not you ruling the Finger and that I could betroth one of my grandsons to your daughter Lyra I believe I could be amenable to such a situation.”

Triston breathes a sigh of relief and is about to speak in agreement when Lord Robin speaks. “This, this right here is why we should not allow Denora to become Lady of Flint’s Finger. Her husband is a man with a glib tongue, he makes promises and does not keep them.”

Triston sighs. “It was not my doing that your son went charging through the breach without any protection Lord Robin. I cautioned him and he went through regardless.”

“And yet he was a boy. You are a grown man, you could have held him back. You were his commander and yet you did nothing. I will not allow a man who lies to become Lord of Flint’s Finger. Can you not see my lords, he says that his wife will be doing the ruling should she become Lady of the Finger, but can you not see that it will be him who will be doing the ruling. Just look at how he has managed to make Denora turn to the Grey abomination.” Robin Flint says.

“I did not force Denora to convert. She willingly chose to do so, and in fact she has been nothing but supportive. She believes that she should be Lady of the Finger and she will be should Lord Eddard rule in her favour. I will not rule in her stead, for that is not the sort of man I am.” Triston retorts.

“Lies!” Lord Robin all but shouts. “All vicious lies. The man lies just as easily as breathing. How can we trust him when we know not what is truth and what is not? He worships a foul demon and has forcibly spread its worship through the lands he rules. If we give him the Finger soon we shall have all his idiots hammering down at the door.”

Triston can feel his own anger begin to grow, but he also feels a sharp pain where the Grey King is roaring in his castle. Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself he replies. “That is not the case Lord Robin. You are too blinded by hate to see the sense in what I am proposing. Give the Finger to Denora, she shall rule it, not I. and not giving her what is due to her by the law, will set a very bad precedent. Do you want that brought up when your own daughter comes to inherit Widow’s Watch?”

At this Robin Flint’s jaw clenches, his mouth sounds tight with anger when he responds. “This… you are threatening me? Are you threatening Farwynd? For if you are, I will come and I will kill you here and now.”

Triston does not know where the words are coming from now but he responds. “No I am not threatening you Robin. If I were threatening you, my knife would be at your throat. You claim I am a threat to the way of the north, I would not threaten the way of the people who welcomed me when my home was destroyed, when my family was killed. I owe the Starks and my wife everything.”

There is a silence then, as they all consider their own thoughts, Triston himself is thrumming with anger and a longing for home he has not felt for a long time. Lord Ferrick seems to be quite discontent with how things have proceeded, whilst Lord Eddard seems to be quite withdrawn almost as if he wishes he was not here. Lord Robin is seething with anger, and it is clear in his tone when he speaks. “I do not believe you. You have taken advantage of Lord Eddard’s good nature and open hand, you have Cape Kraken and you have your wife under some spell or the other. My sister always claimed that Denora acted differently when you were around. I do not want my niece to be plagued by whatever it is you have done to her.”

Triston is silent a moment and then he feels the Grey King press into his being and his voice is harder and heavier than it was before. “I have done nothing to my wife. I love her and she loves me. Just because your sister was a harridan who would deny her children happiness, does not mean that what she claimed is true. I never forced Denora into doing anything she did not want to do. And if you continue to insinuate as such I will kill you here and now.”

It seems this was exactly the reaction Lord Robin was looking for. “You see!” he exclaims. “You see what sort of man he is. He would threaten to kill me under your roof my lord. A guest, he would threaten to kill a guest. I always knew Ironborn had no honour and I suppose that this is true now as well.”

Triston is about to respond when Lord Eddard speaks. “Enough!” all eyes are on the lord, and then he says. “Enough, you are all guests here under my roof. I shall not allow you to shame each other anymore. Either have a useful conversation or have no conversation whatsoever. I will not tolerate further insults being thrown. Robin you are a man grown, act like one.”

At this the Lord of Widow’s Watch stands up. “So you will insult me my lord of Stark but you will not ask this Ironborn scum to do the same? I had thought a son of Rickard Stark would have more sense. But then when the father plays games in the south, what more can the unwanted son do but founder?”

The man goes to move, and Triston calls out. “So you would insult your future liege? By the gods you are a child Robin.”

The man looks at him then and snarls. “I am more a man than you will ever be.” and with that he storms out.

When the door is slammed shut all three remaining men look at one another and then Lord Ferrick says. “I will go and speak with him, it does us no good to have him angry.”

Lord Eddard nods. “Aye go and speak with him my lord, but now we must wait for us all to calm down.”

Triston knows then that they will never see Lord Robin again, for when you insult the Grey King, you do not survive, not anymore. He smiles internally and plots his revenge.


	68. Blood, Wine, Spirit

**7 th Month of 290 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

The High Septon’s death had been met with roars of approval and roars of outrage, some within King’s Landing had openly celebrated the death of a man whom many considered a blood thirsty tyrant. Others mourned his death, for they saw his passing as the sign that the Faith of the Seven was now entering into an unknown period, and if there was one thing Rickard had learnt of these followers of the seven it was that they did not like the unknown it terrified them. That neither side had come to blows or caused all out fighting was mainly due to the efforts of Hoster Tully the Hand of the King as well as Septon Maegor. Both men had proved to be exemplary conduits of followers of the faith and so it had come as no surprise when the Most Devout had chosen Septon Maegor as the new High Septon. The integration of new policies in the faith had begun and were going smoothly sooner or later it would be complete.

There had been other issues that had needed to be sorted out as well. Mainly the issue of whom should take up the position of Commander of the City Watch. Old Manly Stokeworth who had served as commander during the entirety of the mad king’s reign had died bringing down a smuggling ring some two moons ago, and since that day Rickard had been looking at so many damned candidates that he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should just appoint Martyn as the commander and have done with it. As far as he could tell there were two main candidates for the position one was Ser Jacelyn Bywater who had earned his stripes fighting the Ironborn and in the Stepstones, he was a good man and true, and someone whom Rickard knew he could count on. The other candidate was Janos Slynt a creature that Tywin Lannister had brought with him and made his own, a man with no morals and someone whom Rickard detested immensely. That he was even a candidate spoke of how far Manly had slipped during his final years, if Rickard had his way the man would never wake up again let alone make it to commander.

There had been some light in the increasing web of plot and intrigue Rickard was getting involved in daily, his wife and grandson had returned safe and whole and happy. Jonothor had brought back stories of his cousins and all the adventures they had gotten up to in Winterfell and along the way in Riverrun, and Rickard had delighted to hear in them and was pleased to see the future generations were getting along well. Lyarra had brought interesting news as well, it seemed that the Farwynd lad was growing in influence in the north, the south west coast was soon to be his it seemed and whilst Rickard had some concerns about that he was not truly too worried. He knew Ned would never do anything completely idiotic that would damage their reputation in the eyes of their bannermen.  It had been with the king and his wife back in King’s Landing that Rickard had given Hoster the go ahead for his heir’s marriage to Myrielle Lannister. The marriage had taken place in the Great Sept of Baelor with the new High Septon officiating and it had been a good affair. The girl was seemingly not like her other relatives, which was good, it mean they could begin to defang the lions. Perhaps he would not need the bastard after all.

These thoughts had to be pushed back though as he listened to what Wyman was saying. “The accounts are all in good order my lord regent. The coffers are over flowing with coin, this winter was not as harsh as we thought it might be. This I can guarantee is due to the efforts to bring Lys and Tyrosh into the realm which has increased our trading capacities some fivefold. Should this continue for the next few years we shall be seeing a large increase in revenues.”

Rickard nods. “That is very good. Has Rogare stated what he wishes to do with the assets that were found loitering in the magisters banks?”

“He has my lord regent. He wishes to use them to bring more capital into the Rogare bank and he wishes for an advance from the throne in order to begin rebuilding the bank.” Wyman responds.

Rickard looks at the master of coin a moment and then asks. “And would this be a wise move? The man has proven himself that is true, but there are things occurring within Essos that might make it look as if giving him funds is a move for more war.”

His old friend is silent a moment and then responds. “I believe it would be a smart move. Lys is subservient to us my lord regent, Rogare has only three daughters and no sons. If we give him the funds to reform his family’s bank we have leverage over him and he owes us something. When the time comes we can draw that card. Besides it would not hurt to have something to compete with the Iron Bank.”

The other members of the small council laugh at that, and Rickard smiles. Once the laughter has died down he asks. “And what of the Iron Bank? How has it been taking all of these advances?”

His old friend looks thoughtful before saying. “As well as the Braavosi know how to take anything. They are saying that this venture will not last long and that soon enough we shall be coming back to them hat in hand. That is why I say we must support Rogare.”

Seeing the logic in this, Rickard nods and then says. “Very well, give the requisite amount to Rogare and tell him that in four years’ time I will expect that money back with interest.” His friend nods and then Rickard turns his attention to the next pressing matter. “Has the smuggling ring been fully dealt with?”

Master of Laws Lord Simon Staunton speaks then his voice soft. “It has my lord regent. The leaders of it have been caught and questioned. They confessed to doing it, not for the smallfolk as was their initial claim but because of some ulterior motive, greed and the promise of monies from some outside source.”

“What outside source?” Rickard asks.

“A man with a spider for an emblem. They were not more specific, but I do not think they needed to be. They said that with maesters from the citadel coming to look at and write about the possessions, there was plenty of reason for them to begin looking for relics of the things.” Staunton says.

“And this was the only thing they were smuggling? The relics? Nothing more?” Rickard asks.

Simon nods. “Nothing more than the relics my lord regent. It does have to be said that these smugglers were not the brightest of people. They were lurking in the shadows but their movements were slow and predictable. That it took so long to find and catch them can be put on Lord Commander Manly’s advanced age. A younger more capable commander would have caught them much sooner.”

“Aye such a thing is true and brings me to my next point. We have two candidates for the post of commander of the city watch, Ser Jacelyn Bywater a renowned warrior and the frog Janos Slynt. Bywater knows what it is to be in battle and would provide a sort of training and discipline to the watch that has not been present for some three years now.  He is my preferred candidate and yet Slynt is a commoner, someone who might know the tricks of the smugglers and the dealers. Staunton what are your thoughts?” Rickard states.

Simon Staunton is a man Rickard knows he can count on and therefore he is not surprised when Staunton replies. Personally Bywater is my choice. The man is solid and reliable and is not someone who will look the other way when corruption enters his home. Slynt might be common born, but that will do him no good when it comes to enforcing the strict regime in the Watch that we all want and need for King’s Landing to be safe.”

Rickard nods. “Aye, so it is decided then. Ser Jacelyn shall be commander of the city watch. Simon next you see him, let the man know.” Simon nods and then Rickard looks at Lady Ellaria, the mistress of whispers and asks. “Now my lady, what is the talk among the lesser lords and the smallfolk? What have they been making of all the change occurring?”

Lady Ellaria is a beauty in her own way, nothing compared to his own Lyarra but he can see why Prince Oberyn was so devoted to her. Her voice is silken when she responds. “The smallfolk talk of this change in a positive light, they believe Septon Maegor will bring the reforms and the openness that his predecessor lacked. The Caustarians are growing in number amongst the smallfolk. They talk in admiration of the royal family and the court. They love the king. As for the lesser lords, they grumble and they protest but they follow all the same.”

“Will they be an issue?” Rickard probes.

Lady Ellaria shakes her head. “No my lord regent. So long as they continue to have their bread buttered they will be happy enough to go along with the regime. It is in the east that matters are coming to a head.” Rickard looks at her and nods for her to continue. “Moqorro the King of Volantis is expanding his hold on the land, he has already entered into an alliance with the slavers of Slaver’s Bay, and they are giving him men and ships to begin a conquest of the rest of the Free Cities.”

This news concerns Rickard. “Which way are they heading? Westward?”

“It seems that Lys might well be their first target although, there are reports coming through that they mean to head upward of the Rhoyne towards Norvos and Qohor and go from there. It seems the Red King is still afraid of the Iron Throne though how long he will be is something I do not know.” The mistress of whispers responds.

“What of Tyrosh? Has that fool of an Archon still continued on his path to war?” Rickard asks.

“The Archon it seems has gone underground. None have seen him since the Feast of the Maidens a moon ago, it seems the council of magisters are doing the ruling. Where he could have gone I do not know, but if I had to hazard a guess I would say Pentos.” The Lady Ellaria says.

Rickard looks at her a long moment and then queries. “You think he has gone to the Magister? To renew family connections?”

Lady Ellaria nods. “I do believe so. My sources report that in the last moon alone, trade between Pentos and Tyrosh has greatly increased, though there is no logical reason for it. Traditionally they have been rivals, and the fact that Myr has not even looked toward gaining the Disputed Lands suggests that there is a wider game at play here.”

Rickard sighs and runs a hand through his thinning hair. “And what of Myr? What are those damnable idiots doing?”

The other members of the small council laugh nervously, and the lady Ellaria smiles somewhat, but her tone is serious when she responds. “They are plotting my lord regent. It seems that they are looking to take the Disputed Lands one way or another, but they are not sure just how to do it. Some on the council of magisters suggests allying with the Red King, others suggest allying with us and trying to gain concessions. And others speak of a web.”

“A web of alliances? Now that would most definitely be new for Myr and the other Free Cities. No doubt this is the work of the Spider. We must put an end to this, and find the damn Archon.” Rickard says.


	69. Boy King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonothor Targaryen, his thoughts and interactions.

**12 th Month of 290 A.C. Red Keep**

**King Jonothor I Targaryen**

He was seven namedays old and he was king. He knew that much, his grandpapa had always made sure of that. For Jonothor Targaryen though being King was not boring, it was actually quite fun, for it meant he got the chance to play with all the fun children and people, and everyone had to do as he said, otherwise they could be punished. But he did not like having anyone be punished like grandpapa would sometimes punish Den if he did something wrong. No he wanted to be a kind king like he had read Jaehaerys had been in his books and lessons. Being king also meant he had some of the best knights protecting him, Jonothor liked the sons and the tales of the Kingsguard, especially the ones about Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold who often told him stories about his father and his mother. He liked those the best.

Grandpapa was a serious man, he rarely smiled Jonothor had learnt, he was always quite serious and solemn faced, he had a long face like Jonothor did, but sometimes he would laugh and smile and those were the times Jonothor lived for, he tried to make grandpapa laugh and smile as much as he possibly could because when Grandpapa smiled his whole face lit up. Grandpapa had taught Jonothor a lot about the realm that was his to govern one day, he was a strict man but Jonothor loved his grandpapa deeply. Grandmamma was another person whom Jonothor loved deeply. Unlike grandpapa she laughed and smiled much more, and Jonothor always played with grandmamma. She told him stories of his own mama, and she told him stories of what his mama had been like before she had gone away, sometimes those stories made grandmamma sad though and so Jonothor tried not to ask them too often.

It had been Grandmamma who had told him the stories of Winterfell and his uncle and how uncle Eddard had been as a boy, it had been Grandmamma who had reassured him during the journey when he had been scared and afraid that his uncle and aunt would not like him. That uncle Eddard would not like him for what he had been the cause of. His grandmamma had kissed away his tears and smoothed back his curls as she always did when he was nervous or upset or afraid and reassured him that uncle Eddard would not hate him, that uncle Eddard would love him. And he supposed she had been right, uncle Eddard and aunt Catelyn were very warm and caring people, they ensured that everything Jonothor could possibly want was provided for. And their children were fun to play with, Robb and Rickon especially, they got up to so much stuff during his time in Winterfell it was hard to keep it all in track but he had thoroughly enjoyed Winterfell and could not wait to come back. Sansa was too young to be of much interest to him, but she was insistent on playing knights and maidens and so he had played along. Arya was a fierce little thing and he was drawn to her in a way he knew not how to explain.

He had been sad when Grandmamma had said that it was time for them to return to King’s Landing. But he had accepted it and done his duty as Grandpapa had taught him and so they had left, with Jonothor thanking his aunt and uncle for their hospitality- was that the word? It was a big word if it was. And then promising to come back to visit, as well as inviting them to come and visit. The journey back had been long and somewhat boring, there were parts where Jonothor had had to ride in the wagon with Grandmamma and her ladies, but as winter had ended and summer had begun he had been allowed to ride on his own pony during the journey. He and his friends Harwyn and Loras had raced one another back and forth throughout the journey when they had all been riding on their ponies. And oh it had been so much fun, even Loras had been less annoying than he usually was.

Back in King’s Landing, Jonothor had resumed his lessons with Maester Marwyn as well as taking lessons from his grandpapa on ruling. These lessons were somewhat boring to him as there was so much detail and other things that he needed to learn but which to him seemed to serve no purpose whatsoever, and yet his grandpapa did say that he needed to learn them and so he paid attention despite how desperate he was to escape. He preferred the lessons with Ser Willam Darry, the sparring lessons with his new wooden sword, and fighting with Loras and Harwyn in the practice yard, he won most of the time, though they both insisted they were not just letting him win. He knew for certain Loras was not, for he had beaten him quite badly the last time they had fought. Jonothor had also fought Ser Arthur, his favourite knight of the Kingsguard with wooden swords and they had clashed and fought again and again, and Jonothor had been so happy. Ser Arthur was truly a good swordsman even with a wooden sword, that he had beaten the man was something Jonothor was truly happy about.

Now his grandpapa had brought him on some secret journey, they had travelled deep into the bowels of the Red Keep, where Viserys claimed there were dragons living. Jonothor had been disappointed to see no dragons on their way down to wherever it was they were going. Whenever he asked, his grandpapa had merely said that he would explain it all when they got to wherever it was they were going. And now here they were standing in front of a giant dragon, with glimmering black scales. Jonothor looked at it in awe, and then at his grandpapa, his grandpapa gave a rare smile and then bid Ser Gerold open the door, they both walked in and then the door closed.

The room glitters and sparkles and Jonothor wonders what this place is. He looks at grandpapa and asks. “Grandpapa, where are we?”

His grandpapa smiles and says. “This my boy, is your inheritance. This is the thing that keeps the Iron Throne strong. The Vault of the Dragons. The power of the Targaryens.”

Jonothor looks around the room, it is big, very big, there are so many things glittering and shining around him. “Why are there so many things here grandpapa?”

“These are the things that your ancestors treasured above all else, these are the things they considered worth preserving. Books, scrolls, weapons, eggs. All of them were kept here if they were thought to be precious or useful.” His grandpapa responds.

Jonothor looks around the room once more and then back at his grandpapa and asks. “Why are we here grandpapa?”

His grandfather looks at him then and his expression is serious very serious. “Because when you are a man grown, this will be your responsibility. For generations each successive Targaryen king has guarded the secrets of the vault, and when the time comes it will be your time to guard it. I need to know if you can do that.”

Jonothor immediately straightens, and his own voice is serious when he responds. “I can do that grandpapa. On my word as a Targaryen and a Stark I can do that.”

His grandpapa nods and then says. “Well then we had best get to looking around the vault then hadn’t we?”

And so it is that they wander around the vault, it is very big as far as Jonothor can tell, bigger perhaps then the throne room. There are so many things here, books from long ago that he has heard about in his lessons, scrolls that many believe according to the maester are merely myths, and of course eggs. The dragon eggs are the things that most excite Jonothor, there are black ones, green ones, red ones, silver ones, golden ones and blue ones. They all glimmer in the light and he finds himself captivated by them.

“They look beautiful don’t they?” grandpapa asks standing behind him.

Jonothor nods and asks. “What caused the dragons to go away grandpapa? I ask maester Marwyn and he does not know.”

His grandfather looks at him and then at the eggs before them and sighs. “No one knows Jonothor. No on truly knows what caused the dragons to wither and die away. Some say it was the effects of the dance of dragons, others that it was because of the dragon pit, and yet other still that it was the maesters of the citadel who caused it. In reality none know, but there are those who believe the dragons’ will come again.”

This gets his interest and he asks. “Are you one of them grandpapa?”

His grandpapa is silent a long time and then responds. “I, believe that there was a time and a place for dragons and that their time has come and gone. This is the world of man now, not magic or some other such beings. We must make our own fate Jonothor. Not rely on others to do it for us.”

Jonothor nods and then says. “But Dragons are very, very impressive no grandpapa? After all Balerion the Black Dread was a giant!”

His grandpapa nods and says. “He was indeed. But that is the thing my boy, dragons were good for the time they were alive in. But they brought more pain to the realm than good. What is it I always say?”

“A ruler must know when to use force and when to become a friend to his people.” Jonothor responds.

“Exactly my boy. Now your ancestors failed to learn that lesson before it began looking them in the face. The usurper would never have gotten as close to the throne as he did had they learnt that lesson.” His grandpapa responds.

Jonothor nods and then looks at his grandpapa. “Uncle Eddard was friends with the usurper was he not grandpapa? Why would he be friends with a man who was a coward?”

A long silence follows this question and Jonothor worries that he has done something wrong, and that Den will be getting a beating for such a question, but then his grandpapa sighs and says. “Your uncle did not know what sort of a man Robert Baratheon would become during the war. He changed from being honourable to mad and power hungry. The change shocked your uncle and he regrets being friends with the man deeply. Why do you ask Jonothor?”

Jonothor himself is silent as he wonders why he asked and then the answer comes to him. “I…I am curious about that time grandpapa. Renly does not remember much of his older brothers, and I wanted to know whether or not he was as horrible as everyone else says he was. I did not ask uncle Eddard, because that would be rude.”

His grandpapa nods and says. “That was considerate of you Jonothor. The memory I know is a painful one for your uncle. The man was someone whom would have made a good warrior, but as a lord and king he did not keep to the true principles. He had too much greed and envy in him. He died when he needed to die, for he had become something of a monster.”

“And monsters are bad, they hurt innocents and cause bloodshed.” Jonothor responds sagely.

His grandpapa nods and then says. “Now enough about Baratheon, tell me what did you make of your cousins?”

Jonothor smiles up at his grandpapa then. “I like Robb and Rickon, grandpapa, they are fun to play with and we explored the crypts and did all kinds of fun things. Sansa is still a little baby though, she would run after us and ruin our fun. Arya was just a baby as well so I could not play with her.”

His grandpapa laughs then. “But you liked them yes?”

“Yes grandpapa very much so.” Jonothor replies.

“Good, for your cousin Robb shall be coming soon enough and I do not want him to feel unwelcome here.” Grandpapa states.


	70. A Prince Amongst Dragons

**4 th Month of 291 A.C. Dragonstone**

**Prince Viserys Targaryen**

There was something about Dragonstone that was so much more soothing than King’s Landing. The air smelt of fire and brimstone and it sang to him in a way nothing else could. Viserys had always enjoyed spending time here. He had practically grown up here during the latter years of his father’s reign, when his mother had increasingly taken him there to get away from what he now knew to be his father’s madness. There was something pure about Dragonstone, something that took away the taint and corruption of King’s Landing, it was primal and pure, and by the gods did he love it. This was where he had become a man, though he was still only five and ten namedays old, he had become a man here by sleeping with one of the dragonseeds, and by gods had she given him a good romp for his nameday present. Dragonstone was where he felt most comfortable, but in King’s Landing there were more beautiful women and there was intrigue, something he enjoyed.

Viserys did not remember all that much about his parents beyond mere fragments of images that came to him now and then. He knew his mother was a sweet woman who always did her best to find the best in everyone, and Viserys did truly miss her and sometimes, just sometimes he would hear her voice when she used to sing to him at night. His father though, his father was something that he tried not to think of too often, there were images that caused him to wake up sweating and sometimes when he had been younger screaming. Images of fire burned brightly in his eyes during these times and he worried that too would end up like his father that was something he did not want to happen. There was also some lingering resentment towards his brother as well, Rhaegar, the fool who had run away with a northern woman who was his nephew’s mother, Viserys could not understand how a man with such potential could act so foolishly. That he was dead was his own doing, and Viserys did not grieve for him, for how could he grieve for a man he did not remember?

As for the current family, well Viserys liked his nephew well enough, the boy was fun to play with and fool around with somewhat though he did have an annoying habit of asking so many questions, that sometimes Viserys would lose his patience. Still the boy was good fun and would be a good king when the time came he was certain of it. As for his own sister, Daenerys was a sweet girl but she was still too quiet, too quiet for a dragon, she preferred to be in the background whilst all those other girls flaunted and showed themselves off in the way little girls were like to do. That did somewhat anger him but Lady Lyarra told him that with time Daenerys would grow. Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra were good people, they had been kind to him when they had had no reason to be, and as such he cared for them a great deal and only wished to make them proud.

As of right now though he was growing accustomed to his role as Prince of Dragonstone which as his nephew’s heir until Jon had a son of his own was something he was starting to like. The place had always been his home, and now it truly was. Of course Renly had come with him, and so it was to him he spoke during a lull in activity. “So tell me fawn what do you make of my home? Its impressive is it not?”

His friend the Baratheon smiled slightly in a way that made many young maiden’s hearts skip a few beats. “It is, but the dragons everywhere do seem to take away from the overall grandeur of the place. I swear there are even dragons in the toilets!”

Viserys laughed at that. “Well we do have to remind people where they are. Some might wonder if they had gone astray were there not dragons everywhere.”

“And yet one must wonder why your ancestors felt the need to build dragons to remind themselves what they were when they had the living breathing things right there in front of them!” Renly guffaws.

Viserys frowns at that. “They had the dragons built into stone to remind themselves and to remind us that we are from another place but also to remind us and themselves that they were majestic and powerful just as the creatures with which we so associate ourselves with were. Though the dragons are gone, this place still holds a power that none have ever been able to explain. A sense of true belief and power, something that each great fortress has.”

His friend looks at him then a strange expression on his face. “When did you become such a poet?”

Viserys blushes slightly then and responds. “I read it somewhere in some book or the other my ancestor wrote. It is true though, think about it. The dragons represent the family, and so long as they stand so will we. When one dragon fell another began to fall until it was rebuilt. There is power in the castles which we call home.”

His friend seems thoughtful and then responds. “That sounds like something Stannis would say. And he barely ever talks about things that he cannot see or touch himself. I wonder if that is why his lords are so discontent with him.”

Viserys is surprised, it was rare for his friend to ever speak of his elder brother, and usually Stannis and Robert were off topic subjects for them. And so he asked. “What do you mean Renly has there been word from Storm’s End?”

His friend sighs then. “Oh there has been more than just word from Storm’s End my prince. There has been a whole string of letters from Storm’s End, my brother it seems has become desperate to ensure my safety and that of the house. It does look as if there are things happening there as a result of my brother’s actions that he can no longer control.”

“You don’t think that they will rebel against him do you Renly? He has the backing of the Iron Throne, if some lords do chose to rebel against him they would be brought down under the sheer weight of support your brother would get.” Viserys states.

His friend laughs further surprising Viserys for usually his brother is quite solemn when his older brother is mentioned. “Stannis is not well liked at court Viserys, surely you know that by now? Everyone thinks him too hard and rigid, and my family still has not recovered from the time Robert, the idiot thought to sit the Iron Throne. There will be no support from the crown should my brother’s lords decide to rebel.”

“But they would be committing treason, to their liege lord and the crown as well. There is no excuse for that.” Viserys responds.

“Come now Viserys, we both know that is not how the world works. There are lords who would be more than glad to see my brother gone from the lordship so that they can fight over something or the other. And truth be told, I am almost inclined to agree with them. For whilst the man might be my brother, he is not truly a good lord. He is too stubborn by half and does not realise that the Stormlands have been recovered for some time now. They do not need such a harsh hand.” Renly retorts.

“You actually want your brother removed from power?” Viserys asks aghast somewhat, but also not entirely surprised.

“Come now Viserys, don’t look at me like that my friend. You have met my brother, you know what he is like. The Baratheon name is still besmirched by the rebellion and my idiot older brother Robert. Stannis’s rule is merely making things worse, he must go so that the realm has a chance to get to know the Baratheons as they were under my father’s rule, not under some hot headed oaf, or some cruel thick skinned idiot. No he must go so that I might begin to repair the Stormlands completely.” Renly responds.

“And you believe you will have the regent’s support for this?” Viserys asks.

His friend smirks then. “I know I will. Just as the Lord Regent sees you as a son or grandson, so too does he view me as such. He will give me the support needed to end any such uprisings that might come should Stannis continue in his folly. And regardless I am not my brothers, I am a clean slate and have the skills needed to win the lords of the Stormlords to my side and make them ever forget the Wensingtons and the Boillings.”

“But the Stormlords are martial lords, and you my friend have little to no martial experience. How will you win them over when you are but a green boy?” Viserys asks.

“There is trouble emerging in the Stepstones and Lys, what with the advance of the Red King. The regent will need men to aid him in dealing with them, I can provide that aid and win over the Stormlords. Regardless, it is no good being a martial man if you cannot charm your men. For I have found that martial men are the ones who best respond to flattery. Just look at yourself my prince.” His friend replies a little smile on his face.

Viserys is about to protest this when he considers all that his friend has said and then he merely nods and asks. “And what role would you have me play in this? I know you would not have brought this all up unless you wanted me to play some part.”

Renly laughs then clapping his hands together. “Oh good show my prince good show. Yes I want you to help me, when the time comes, the lords will want to know why they should support me, and I will charm them and win them over, and you, you will show them that I am not a puppet of the throne. I am much more than that.”

“How will I do that?” he asks confused.

“By arguing with me. You must quarrel with me, and I shall protest and fight you on the matters at hand, and that shall make them see that I am their lord not the throne’s.” his friend responds.

Viserys can see the sense in that suggestion but feels he must also point out to his friend. “Renly, I am only just turned five and ten, and you have only just turned four and ten. And whilst your brother and his wife have not yet had any children, they might still have some. We must not being making plans until it becomes evidently clear that this is the case. For we do not want to fall flat on our faces should Stannis have a son.”

His friend nods. “That is true, we are young yet. But still, should my brother and his hag of a wife have a child, there is nothing stopping the Wensingtons from removing my brother and naming the child as the new Lord or Lady of Storm’s End. They are ruthlessly cruel when it comes to such matters. In fact I am surprised they have not even tried to cuckhold my brother yet. Perhaps he is not as idiotic as we all think.”

“And I suppose you are planning to make sure such a thing does not ever happen?” the prince asks.

“Of course. Stannis is no good to me dead. His wife and his wife’s family must be removed though.” Renly responds.

“And how pray tell do you intend to make this happen?” Viserys asks.

There is something about the smile his friend gives him then that unnerves him. “There are various things one can do, when the maester at Storm’s End is loyal to the family name, and the family name is suffering.”


	71. Mother Earth

**8 th Month of 291 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lady Lyarra Stark**

Going back to Winterfell had been nice. For whilst she enjoyed the games and intrigue that King’s Landing brought, there was something about returning to place where she had grown up and had seen her children grow, that just was more special to her. It had been nice to not have to worry about some plot or the other, or have to deal with ladies who were so infuriating, though it did seem that lady Mina had found someone of attraction to her whilst in Winterfell, some Ironsmith of the other. That was something she would exploit later on. As for her two sons, well Ned and his family seemed to be doing well, her eldest son seemed to have settled in quite comfortably into the role of the Stark in Winterfell, and it was clear the lords of the north respected and liked him, his wife Catelyn was a proud lady and someone who would make a very good Lady of the North when her time came, their children were delightful their second son Rickon reminded Lyarra somewhat of Brandon when he had been a boy, always doing something or the other and never able to keep still. The other children that her eldest son had were young but Lyarra was sure they would be true Starks. As for her youngest son Benjen, he seemed to be adapting well to life as a husband and a lord, he had a charm about him that drew people to him and his wife was a beauty, their children were also quite sweet. All in all Lyarra was happy that her two surviving children had found peace and happiness, but she mourned all the same for the two wolf cubs who had never gotten to know that bliss and cursed the mad king and their own impatience for that.

Not all that much had occurred since she had returned to King’s Landing in terms of the development of court gossip, it did seem that apart from one or two noblemen and ladies having affairs there was not much going on that could help her or her husband better protect their grandson. Of course the Tyrells had arrived a moon ago, coming it seemed to try and ingrain themselves with her husband and her grandson. The betrothal between her grandson and Lord Mace’s daughter had been agreed upon when Robert Baratheon sat the Iron Throne, but Lyarra had not thought the oaf of Highgarden would truly try to gain influence now. Of course the man was ambitious Lyarra had realised that from the off, he was all ambition and power craving, but she could read his thoughts a mile off, in that he was like his son Loras, whose thoughts were so easy to read just by looking at his facial expression. The main two power brokers in the Tyrell family were the man’s wife the Lady Alerie who had a shrewd mind and a cunning tongue, and the man’s mother the Lady Olenna famed for her barbed tongue and for being the Queen of Thorns. Lyarra liked them both immensely it made such a sharp change from the blithering that was Mina Tyrell. And of course Margaery Tyrell was a sweet girl, but already Lyarra could see that she was as much the Queen of Thorns creature as her mother’s daughter.

That of course meant that Lyarra deeply enjoyed conversations with Lady Alerie and Lady Olenna, especially when it was just the three of them as it was now in her solar. “So tell me my ladies, how do you find King’s Landing? I know it is somewhat hotter than Highgarden, but the beauty is there.”

“Oh yes, King’s Landing is most definitely hot, but then being by the sea that is inevitable. We have found it most accommodating have we not mother?” Lady Alerie states.

The lady Olenna speaks then. “Yes, yes King’s Landing is the capital. You and your husband would be remiss if it were not accommodating. But yes there are many interesting things that have been happening since we have been here. Most obvious of those is the fact that my daughter Mina seems to have taken one of your husband’s bannermen as a lover. What was his name?”

“Jared Ironsmith?” Lyarra supplies. “Yes, they met at Winterfell. It does seem that Lady Mina has become somewhat besotted by him. He is a good man, but there are certain things that might look somewhat askance should this affair continue.”

“Yes, we all know just how ambitious the Ironsmiths are. My father was friends with one if I remember correctly.” Lady Olenna responds. “And it seemed that the man was forever taking money from him. My father was an oaf, but he was a kind hearted one. This man however seems more a leech.”

Lyarra laughs at that. “Yes that does sound quite right. The Ironsmiths are known for being ambitious, and when their ambitions in the north do not work, they turn south. Is there anything you’d wish for me to do about the man?”

The Lady Olenna shakes her head. “No, no. I think it is best if Mina learns on her own. She is a woman grown, and with children of her own. There is no point in trying to lead her away from that man if his cock is the one leading the relationship.”

They all laugh at that and then the Lady Alerie asks softly. “I had heard that the Lady Cersei had been one of your ladies, my lady. Tell me what is she like?”

Lyarra considers for a moment and then says. “She is a strange one that one. She tries to be like her father, but does not realise just how strange that is. A woman trying to be a man, something like that does not sit all that well in King’s Landing. That is a lesson she never learnt, and I believe it has brought about her own fall.”

The Lady Olenna laughs then. “Of course. Those Lannisters were always trying to get into bed with the dragons. They think themselves so high and mighty because of the lion on their sigils. But lions get hurt just as easily as others, and now the old lion is dead and a young sits the lion throne. That one is not his father, but if the daughter is like the father then she shall stop at nothing to get the power she once thought was hers.”

“I had thought as much as well my lady.” Lyarra responds. “Cersei Lannister is a woman whose ambition knows no bounds. Sooner or later she will look to come back to court and when she does, she will look to place one of her daughter’s in the king’s path.”

“That is something we cannot allow. The lions being back in power would be disastrous for us all. Cersei Lannister especially would be somewhat of a problem. A betrothal can be broken, but the bonds between our two houses should be retained, and nurtured. The Lannisters are from the past, their ways are outdated. Ours are not. My son might be a sputtering fool, but I do not believe that either myself or my gooddaughter are.” The lady replies.

“So what would you suggest we do then my lady?” Lyarra asks intrigued.

“Well there are many ways to make the lion bite its own tail. Luring them into a sense of security and then pulling the rug from underneath their feet is one method that I might well suggest. But then there are other ways that one could go about it. Inviting the girls to court for example, that would make it seem as though we are welcoming them to the fold and it also means we can assess what exactly their motives are. Keep them thinking they have a chance and then take it away.” The Lady Olenna says.

Lyarra nods. “A smart suggestion my lady. It is one that we must think on as time goes by. But now I fear the hour is late and that I must retire.” With that Lyarra bids goodnight to both ladies and then when both are gone she herself stand and leaves the solar. She walks in silence for a few moments with Ser Mark Ryswell of the Kingsguard her shadow, and then when she gets to the rooms her and her husband share, she bids him goodnight. Upon entering the room she finds her husband already changed and about to get into bed, he is reading some letter or the other, but puts it down when he sees her there. He holds out his hand and she goes to him, standing between his legs she asks. “How did your meeting with Lady Ellaria go?”

Her husband sighs. “It went alright, she is still insisting that she go to Essos. I have tried and tried to persuade her against doing such a thing, but she says that sending her girls back to Dorne and then going is the safest way to do what she wishes to do.”

“So she believes the evidence she found is conclusive enough to go to Pentos then?” Lyarra asks.

Her husband nods. “Yes, she believes now will be the only time to get the Magister before he disappears for good. With the Red King and his army closing in on the western free cities, I am tempted to agree with her. And yet I need her here, she does me no good over in Pentos.”

“That is not necessarily true my love,” Lyarra counters softly. “In Pentos she can find out more on the magister and the eunuch, and report it back to you. She can use her contacts to find out whether or not the Archon is hiding within the city and she can also remove the magister and potentially deal with the problem before it becomes too serious.”

“True, very true.” Rickard responds tiredly. “But at the same time, if she goes to Pentos what is there to say she does not get captured. The magister is a dangerous man who has allies and contacts everywhere within the damned city. One wrong word or turn and she could well end up captured and dead. And then I would have another problem with Dorne, already Prince Oberyn died doing the throne’s business, I cannot expect Doran Martell to go to ground on this one.”

“We both know what Ellaria is like my love, she will do it anyway, even if you do not give her permission. Better to let her go with your permission and with the resources of the throne behind her than on her own and cold.” Lyarra reasons.

Her husband sighs. “You are right of course. I suppose I should acquiesce and allow her to go. But enough about that, tell me my love, how did your conversation with the ladies Tyrell go?”

Lyarra laughs softly. “It was interesting to say the least. Lady Olenna is a shrewd woman, and she is looking at ways in which she can increase her family’s influence here. She even suggested bringing the Lannister girls to court when they are old enough. In the end she wants to expand control and influence over the court. And it seems she wants to know more about Ironsmith.”

Her husband looks at her then and his eyebrows are raised. “So she wants the Lannister girls to come to court? As what? A sort of distraction? I suppose that could well work. But then again the Lannisters are treacherous by nature, we would need to be careful. As for Ironsmith, I see the ruse did not last long then my love.”

Lyarra smiles. “It was never meant to last for too long. The man has gotten the information he needs from Mina. Soon enough we shall be good to go.”

Her husband nods and then pulls her closer to him, his face resting on her chest. “Gods I missed you whilst you were away in Winterfell. Soon enough this will all be worth it, when we are firmly in control it will all work out.”

Lyarra runs her hands over her husband’s hair and murmurs. “Of course it will my love. Of course it will.”


	72. High As Honour

**12 th Month of 291 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lord Jon Arryn**

It had been seven years since last he’d been in King’s Landing and the Red Keep. After the Great Council and Robert’s death he had not wanted to have anything to do with the intrigues or the treachery that were part of everyday life in King’s Landing. There was so much grief and guilt that he had harboured after his ward’s death, grief for Robert, Elbert and Denys all dead because of the folly of Rhaegar and Aerys Targaryen, and then there was guilt because it had been he who had pushed for Robert to claim the crown. And it had been the crown that had ultimately cost Robert his life. He had also been very, very angry with Rickard Stark, for his treachery and for being a snake sensing opportunity, the man had been just as complicit in the rebellion and the removal of the Targaryens, he knew not what had changed the man, but something had and Jon had not wanted to have anything to do with him.

His self-imposed exile had also meant that he had not really spoken to Ned in all these years, and whilst that had hurt, he had thought it for the best, after all Ned was trying to find himself now and Jon did not want to tie him to the past. It was too painful for him, he could only imagine how painful it must have been for Ned.  All of this had meant that he had gotten the chance to get to know his wife, and he had found that Lysa whilst smart, was something of a child, she was used to getting her way and when she did not she often pouted and sulked for days. And so on one or more occasion to simply stop her from pouting Jon had agreed to appoint this Petyr Baelish as a keeper of coin at Gulltown. The lad had done well increasing revenues coming from trade there, and Jon knew the lad had talent, yet there was something about him that somewhat unnerved Jon. He had done everything he could to ensure his children never spent longer than necessary with the man, and as such knew that that was one more thing his wife disliked about him. But he could not help it, he had seen the way the man had looked at his daughter and it frightened him. His son and heir Jasper was a strong boy who looked more and more like Jon’s own brother Ronnel had with his brown blond hair and his blue eyes that were always looking for trouble. Minisa his daughter had auburn hair and blue eyes and supposedly looked like Lysa when she was younger or according to Baelish like Lady Catelyn Ned’s wife.

Jasper was the reason why they had all made the journey down to King’s Landing in the first place. His son was eight years old now, and was to foster in King’s Landing as a friend of the king’s, to help better cement relations between the king and his future lord Paramounts. Jon knew that in actual fact his son was being used as a hostage against him, to ensure he did nothing to cause trouble for the throne. Not that Jon had any true intention of remaining in King’s Landing longer than a moon to ensure his son was well settled. He had found that he disliked the place and all the intrigues that went on, yes he was good at them, but truly he had his own issues to deal with. The Mountain clans were getting more and more quarrelsome and the branches of the faith in the Vale were reacting harshly to laws about the Caustarians and the new High Septon. Gods the list went on and on.

This was why he was somewhat wary when he met the Lord Regent in the man’s solar. Lord Hoster was there as well, and Jon wondered whether or not this was some sort of ploy. Sitting down he cleared his mind and waited for the regent to speak. When the man did his voice carried the weight of tiredness in it. “Lord Arryn, I trust you have enjoyed your stay so far in King’s Landing?” Jon nods. “I am sure you are wondering why you are here. I promise you that it is nothing serious or threatening, I just thought that seeing as it has been so long since you were last here in King’s Landing that we might talk so as to reacquaint ourselves with one another.”

A means to ensure I was not doing anything dangerous for the throne, Jon thinks. He swallows and then says. “I thank you for that. Yes, I and my wife and children have enjoyed our stay here in King’s Landing thus far. Jasper seems very much to enjoy the company of his grace. And his grace is a lovely lad, I am sure they will get on very well. As for the Vale, all has gone well there, it is safe and has survived winter and come out with more profit then there was before winter, mainly due to larger trading contracts with Braavos and other free cities.”

The lord regent looks at him a moment and then asks. “It has been mentioned that you have not taken an active part in the affairs of the realm in the past seven years, for a lord who was very active before the rebellion that is quite a strange turn of events. I wonder why you have not thought to be more involved. There have been changes occurring here that do affect a place such as the Vale.”

Jon looks at the man and then responds. “There has been much that needed to be done in the Vale before I could even consider looking to get back into the game my lord regent. My family was significantly hurt by the rebellion, and so there was the case of making sure my line was safe and secure. And of course the mountain clans are beginning to look askance once more. That is one issue that might need to come to a head one day. And finally, winter made it so that there was no practical sense in coming down from the vale.”

The lord regent nods and then says. “Well we have sorely missed your presence here. Your experience and guidance could have been used during many things that have occurred since the king was crowned. But that is in the past, and we have all learnt I am sure, that dwelling in the past does no one any good.”

Jon smiles in agreement he can somewhat guess where this is going but he wants to see what the man himself says. After a moment of silence he speaks. “Those are wise words my lord regent. Wise words indeed. But there is one issue that I must ask about. Word reaches us in the Vale, and we know of the plight of Stannis Baratheon. Why is it that you have not sent men to aid a man who has been nothing but loyal to the crown and throne, and yet allow men to go to Tyrosh to deal with a traditionally treacherous lot?”

He can see that the question has somewhat thrown the regent, and yet the man manages to maintain his composure. “Tyrosh is an issue that had a pressing need with regards to ensuring the stability of the crown, with the spread of the red king, it is necessary we ensure that our allies abroad are protected. As for Lord Stannis, the man knows what he needs to do if he wishes to reduce the pressure on his own person. And if he needs the crown’s help he need only ask.”

Jon does have to applaud the man that is a smooth deflection of the pressing question. “And yet, you know what Stannis Baratheon is like, you saw him at the great council. He will not ask for help, but he will expect it. That it has not come yet must look odd to many who would have thought that aid would always be given when needed, considering Banefort aided Jaime Lannister in dealing with the rebels there.”

There is a look that passes between Stark and Tully that has Jon smirking inside. They thought they had played that move so well, and yet for those who knew to look hard enough it was obvious. Tully speaks then. “Jaime Lannister is a man who has shown himself to be of the utmost loyalty to the crown and the realm. He did the realm a great service when he removed Aerys and he has fought nobly during the trouble with the Ironborn. Stannis Baratheon has created his own problems. Many of the laws and regulations he has imposed are somewhat barbaric and backward. The Stormlands have recovered from the rebellion, there is no need for such harsh measures.”

Jon nods. “And yet the Stormlands were one of the most affected regions by the rebellion, alongside the riverlands. The Stormlords are a very argumentative lot of lords as well, surely you both recognise the need for Stannis Baratheon to have the crown’s support. Otherwise there will be treachery and anarchy a plenty. From what I recall the man’s marriage was not organised until after the war in the Stepstones, and yet still there are no children from it. There will be those who are looking to force them both out and to put either Lord Renly or Ser Harbert as the lord of Storm’s End, and Lord Renly is someone who is very open to manipulation. Surely that is something neither of you want? Not after having just removed Tywin Lannister’s influence from court.”

Both men look at him somewhat askance and Lord Hoster responds. “For a man who has been out of court politics for such a long time, you seem oddly informed and up to date with everything that has occurred here and elsewhere.”

Jon smiles then. “A lord needs to be informed and knowledgeable of everything going on in the realm at large, if he is to have any hope of ensuring his people are well looked after during the long months of winter. And even in summer, there is a need to ensure that we are not forgotten. All three of us were forgotten during Aerys reign, and I was doing my part to ensure my kingdom was not forgotten now. Furthermore, people talk, someone always talks about this or the other. Gossip is the source of the commons, and I have found that it is quite useful to listen to them sometimes.”

The lord regent nods. “That is true, very true my lord. But tell me will you be remaining here in King’s Landing after your son has settled in. If you have so much to do back in the Vale, you already would have left. But you have stayed for a week now, so tell me my lord, why are you still here?”

At this Jon smiles once more. “To make sure that I and my people are not forgotten. The Vale was a key part of the alliance that paved the way for your grandson to sit the throne, my lord regent. I would have our part be recognised and that we be given the same due that the riverlands has been given.”

“And what pray makes you think that these thinks are yours and your peoples? Lord Hoster and the Riverlords are the ones who strongly backed the King during the Great Council. If I remember correctly, you and your lords supported the usurper and did what you could to keep Tywin Lannister sweet." The lord regent barks.

Ignoring the slight twinge of annoyance in him at that, Jon keeps his voice calm and his face neutral when he responds. “Because I know things that would be of great interest to you both. Firstly I can tell you where exactly the Archon of Tyrosh has fled to.”


	73. Death

**4 th Month of 292 A.C. Storm’s End**

**Lord Stannis Baratheon**

There were times when he would wake at night and wonder just how his life had gotten to this point. His lords despised him and he knew a fair few of them were openly plotting his death, his people in Storm’s End were beginning to question him, and he himself was beginning to doubt whether or not he was truly cut out for all of this. The number of times he had cursed Robert for trying to take the throne had been countless. If his brother had merely accepted that he was not going to get the happy ending he so desperately craved things would have been better, perhaps, but then that would make Stannis just as much a dreamer as his own two brothers were or had been and that was something that he had sworn he would never be. it was not easy being Lord of the Stormlands, his bannermen were fighters and drinkers, the two things he despised the most, and they were harsh people. The laws and reforms he had put in place had been meant to improve the Stormlands after the hounding the Tyrells had given it during the rebellion, perhaps he had kept them going for too long, but at the same time rather safe than sorry.

Then there was the whole fact that he had no heir. Some six years of marriage and still no heir, at first he had wondered if the problem had been with his wife, but then he realised that perhaps the problem lied with him. Six years and no pregnancies, no stillbirths nothing, just emptiness. At first he and his wife had tried to care for one another as the disappointments grew, but at this stage it appeared there was nothing with which to satisfy their desires with. Stannis was not a man to sleep around and though his wife wanted love she was too dutiful to do so. It was frustrating and did not help the already strained situation with his lords. Renly, his little brother was growing into a man whom Stannis could not relate to. His brother had some way with words and people. Just like Robert did and Stannis suspected his brother was hungering after his own position, something the Targaryen boy was no doubt encouraging him to go for. It was all a mess.

Maester Cressen of course had insisted on meeting with him to discuss something or the other and so Stannis was sat in his solar listening to the maester talk. “The figures from the accounts of the household show that we are finally clear of the red and are now entering into positive flow of money my lord. This could go a long way into reassuring the bannermen that all is good.”

Stannis nods. “All is good though maester, the Stormlands are finally free from winter and from the clutches of debris the Tyrells left behind. That should be enough for those fools to realise that all is well.”

Maester Cressen looks down at the books and then back at him. “You will remember of course my lord, that some such as Caron, Swann, Selmy and Dondarrion refused to believe that the taxes and laws were remaining in place because of the rebellion. They believe you were doing it to punish them for the great council.”

Stannis looks at the maester nonplussed. “Why would I do that? I am not a man to brood over such a thing. They did as they thought was right. It is not my problem if they feel grief over it. It is in the past. That they did not pay the taxes shows that they themselves have something to hide. And I want to know if you have found what that is.”

“Unfortunately not my lord. I have looked and looked, but it seems they are all clean and good. There is no corruption occurring within the Marcher lords. It seems they were truly unhappy because of what they thought was an infringement into their privacy.” Maester Cressen responds.

“Infringement.” Stannis snorts. “It was no infringement it was a simple procedure that Robert should have carried out long ago. Had it been him who asked it of them, they would have done so gladly. But no, they look at me in wonder.”

“Do you not think that perhaps it might do something to improve relations if you go and visit them yourself my lord? After all showing them you are not the monster they think you are would go a long way to making things better for the kingdom as a whole.” Maester Cressen reasons.

“No. that will only make me look weak. I will not go to them with a bowl in hand begging for them to accept me. I am their liege lord, and it is their duty to do as I say. Whether they like it or not is immaterial they must do as I say otherwise they are committing treason.” Stannis responds.

“But they could argue that seeing as the crown it has asked you to repeal some of the laws and taxes that you put in place, that you, yourself have been committing treason and therefore do not have the grounds to accuse them of such. And looking at the evidence, they would have a strong case.” The maester replies.

“So you are siding with them Cressen? I had thought you were supposed to be loyal to me, and to Storm’s End. Not to some fools who cannot see past their own gods’ damned castle and land. I have to think for the whole kingdom here not just for them. I must do for all as I do for myself. And now they seek to question me? Gods.” Stannis fumes.

“You remember what I taught you about King Aegon the Fortunate do you not, and his attempts at reform?” the maester asks.

“Yes, he tried to bring about change to quickly before his lords were ready for it and he suffered for it. That and the fact that his children disobeyed him.” Stannis says.

“Your lords are not ready for one big change my lord. They need it to be brought in slowly so they do not feel as if they are being threatened.” The maester says soothingly.

“It has been eight years since these laws were brought in. They should have gotten used to them by now. I will not accept that my situation is the same as King Aegon’s. It is very different, I know why I am doing this and I have the means of doing so. That I have given them the choice is something more than what any of my predecessors would have done and yet still they complain.” Stannis fumes, feeling his anger grow.

“Your predecessors would have slowly implemented the laws and changes without the lords noticing at first and then by the time they noticed it would have been too late for them to do anything major about them. That is where you erred my lord.” Cressen says sagely.

Stannis grits his teeth and not willing to discuss the matter further asks. “And what of my wife, she says she is with child. Is she truly with child this time? It has been so long since last those words were uttered that I am not sure whether I believe them or not.”

The maester is silent for a moment and then nods. “Yes my lord, I believe that this time it is true. Your wife is with child.”

Stannis breathes a huge sigh of relief then. “That is good maester. Very good.”

The maester looks like he is about to say something but changes course and merely responds. “It is indeed my lord. It is indeed.”

Stannis wonders what the maester was going to say but then another question comes to mind. “This means Renly is now further down the succession. He will not be happy about that, not with that damnable prince whispering in his ear. We must keep this news secret until the time for the birth is near. I do not want any further dangers coming to my wife.”

“Of course my lord.” Cressen replies.

Stannis dismisses Cressen and begins feeling like smiling and laughing for the first time in a very, very long time. Of course that would bring about serious questions and so instead he orders a hunt be prepared, and once it is done sets of with Ser Cortnay Penrose, Great Uncle Harbert and his wife’s brothers Ser Errol and Ser Davos Wensington. They ride from Storm’s End with some five other men and decide to venture into the Misty Woods, a small forest near Storm’s End. Stannis can feel a large sense of relief overwhelming him as he rides through the forest looking for game. Finally he will have a child, or children and he does not need to worry about schemes to remove him.

In the distance he sees a Stag and decides to chase after it, the Stag gives him a good run round, weaving in and out of the trees and the woodland, bucking and rearing through the ground and the mist. Stannis gives chase, feeling more alive than he has done in sometime. He lets an arrow loose from his bow and watches as it just manages to whisk past the stag, he laughs somewhat, and then spurs his horse on as the stag continues running. The stag is going deeper and deeper into the forest, and Stannis feels an old sense of dread begin to engulf him as he remembers the stories his mother used to tell him and Robert of giants and children of the forest. He dismisses them though, for they were nothing more than fairy tales.

As he follows the Stag’s trail he notices that the stag itself has gone from sight. Wondering what could have happened and where the stag could have gone it brings his horse to a stop. That would prove to be a fateful mistake, for as soon as his horse stops moving, he hears the sound of more hooves, these ones heavier than those of his companions. They are thundering through towards him and he momentarily places his bow on his shoulder, when an arrow comes whizzing out behind him and strikes him in the shoulder. He groans with pain, and then another arrow hits his other shoulder and the bow falls from his reach as his shoulders sag with pain.

Then a voice Stannis recognises speaks. “Ah so the Lord of Storm’s End is all alone. At last a chance to end this farce once and for all.”

“What are you doing here Durran? I thought you were in Nightsong?” Stannis asks gritting his teeth through the pain.

“Why I have come to kill you my lord. My family died because of you and your laws, and now I will kill you myself.” Durran responds.

“Your family’s death is not my fault. They died because of a fever, nothing to do with me.” Stannis grits out.

“They died because you would not allow them to leave. You left them there to die. And now you shall as well. Fire another one Arstan.” Caron snarls.

Another arrow comes whizzing into Stannis’s back this time, and he slumps over in his horse. “At least have the guts to look at me when you kill me.” He pants.

“You are a tyrant Stannis. You do not deserve the respect of seeing your killers. You will die here and your friends will die as well.” Durran Caron says laughingly.

“What… what have you done?” Stannis groans, just managing to keep himself awake.

“Ser Harbert is dead, as is Ser Cortnay. Your goodbrothers are either wounded or fled. They did a good job as well. A shame then that they must not die. But you, oh you will die.” Durran says.

Before Stannis can respond he feels a spear being shoved into his back, there is a moment of pain and then the world goes black.


	74. Rogue

****

**4 th Month of 292 A.C. Dragonstone**

**Prince Viserys Targaryen**

Dragonstone, ah Dragonstone, his home, his home and his people. Being Prince of Dragonstone came with a lot of benefits, most especially regarding females. Women just seemed to be throwing themselves at him and he loved it, all the attention and all the sweet love he could make. There was one girl who he had become infatuated with, her name he thinks is Mysaria, and by the gods the things she could do with her mouth and her legs, made him hard just thinking about it. It was lovely, and it was something he looked forward to exploring in more detail. There were other more mundane things that as Prince of Dragonstone he needed to do, such as managing the accounts and dealing with the lords of the crownlands that were his bannermen who sometimes created problems. But overall he enjoyed life here, especially as Renly was here with him to aid in the more mundane.

Though with news from Storm’s End, a dark cloud had engulfed Dragonstone, as they all wondered what was going to happen now. Viserys was worried about Renly, his friend was acting odd, talking in strange tongues and plotting, gods there was so much plotting. That was why he had called his friend into the solar today. “Renly please you must stop doing all of this. This plotting is unseemly, your brother has just died people will understand if you give yourself time to grieve.”

“Time to grieve? Why would I grief for a brother I did not love, and who did not love me? He shipped me off because he could not handle the pressure of raising a boy and being lord over one of the most volatile regions in Westeros. No I will not grieve but I must move fast to ensure that the Wensingtons do not do anything to remove me from my rightful place.” His friend retorts.

“You rightful place? What are you on about Renly? Your goodsister is with child. You are that child’s heir now, or at least will be when the child is born. Doing anything to dispute that would make you look all the more guilty.” Viserys reasons.

“Guilty? By the gods Viserys you do not think I actually did this do you? I was here the whole time, and my network is not as advanced as I would like it to be. But I do know one thing, this child that my goodsister claims she is heavy with, is not my brother’s.” Renly responds.

“How do you know that the child is not Stannis’s Renly? Were you there in the bed chamber when the two slept with one another? No you were not. You were here or in King’s Landing. What proof do you have?” Viserys asks.

“The fact that for six years there was no child despite the fact that they tried fairly often, and that I could hear them. And yet there was no child from this union. And then suddenly she is with child? No there is something else going on here. The Wensingtons would have had something to do with this. I know they have.” His friend states.

“Okay let us say that this child is not your brother’s, whose child could it be? And why would the Wensingtons be so foolish as to do something like this? And finally how did your brother not catch onto it?” Viserys asks.

“Well my goodsister always was close to Ser Ellard Bolling, and the Bolling and Wensingtons were always at Storm’s End breathing down my brother’s neck. No doubt it is his child, they were always too close to one another. And my brother never seemed to pay much mind to his wife after the first few years. It is perfectly reasonable that my goodsister looked to sooth her longings with an old friend.” Renly argues.

“And then why did your brother not catch onto this? Stannis was not a man who missed much.” Viserys points out.

Renly snorts. “With his wife he was like to miss a lot. He never paid her much mind. He did not care for her, and he was too busy trying to reign in the Stormlords. There is plenty of room there for something to have happened and for Stannis not have noticed. Besides, he would have been so desperate for a child of his own that any news of such an event possibly happening would have pushed such thoughts from his mind.”

Viserys concedes the point but then asks. “And if this child is not your brother’s, to everyone else they will be the trueborn child of Stannis Baratheon and his heir. Not you. Why would they support you?”

“Because the Wensingtons and the Bollings were the ones who insisted on keeping the ridiculous laws and taxes going on the Marcher Lords. I know Stannis wanted to reduce them, but his whore of a wife and his goodfather insisted they be kept at the rate they are currently are. The Wensingtons have made many enemies, and right now the marcher lords will want them gone, if only to reduce the burden on themselves. I can do that for them. As for the lords of the Rainwood, they are some of the fiercest rivals of the Wensingtons. All in all the Wensingtons rise has angered many and I can provide the solution that is why they would support me.”

“Which lords have approached you? I know you keep contact with them. But which lords?” Viserys asks a plan forming in his mind.

“Caron, Swann, Selmy, Dondarrion and Connington. All have been in touch with me. They know that I can give them the relief from the heavy burdens they so desire. And furthermore they know I will not stand in the way of their more martial pursuits. It is time that I claim my right, I will not let those bastards claim my home.” Renly says.

Viserys nods. “Okay that makes sense. Connington would want you in Storm’s End, after all you are part of the royal family through your friendship with me. But you would need support from the throne.”

His friend looks at him a hopeful smile on his face. “This is where I was hoping you could come in my friend. If you could speak to the Lord Regent, and present my case, and the justifications, surely the lord regent would see the sense in what I say. After all having the Wensingtons in power would be bad for him as well as for the realm.”

Viserys considers this a moment and then responds. “That is true. I do remember him saying something about the Wensingtons once when I spoke with him long ago. I am sure he will listen to me. But you will need to come with me as well. We must do it face to face with him, not through a raven, and you will need to come and state your case. As that will strengthen whatever argument I use.”

His friend nods. “What of those lords who were once sworn to Summerhall? Grandison, Cafferen and Fell. They will look to Storm’s End or perhaps even to you here on Dragonstone. I know they are firm Targaryen loyalists, surely you could put in a good few words for me to convince them.”

Viserys ponders this. “I do not know just how strong their ties are now. They were loyalists during the rebellion because my father had been good to them. The lord regent has largely allowed Storm’s End to dictate terms to them, and as such they have suffered. Perhaps if we both go and speak to them it might do your cause some good. After all I am sure I can charm them easily enough, Lady Grandison is said to be very beautiful.”

Renly laughs. “And she is young and single as well my prince. Surely the thought of sleeping with the Prince of Dragonstone is something no woman with her head screwed on could refuse. Yes we must go and visit them otherwise the Wensingtons will begin looking towards them as well.” His friend is silent a moment and then says. “And of course there is the chance it might well come to war. The Wensingtons do not seem as if they would relinquish control willingly. They have support from some minor lords, enough to threaten my own claim. That makes it even more important that I gather enough support from powerful lords to overwhelm any potential thoughts of war.”

Viserys nods. “Smart move my friend. Of course, I will be there to support you, as will the lords of the narrow sea, and the ships of the narrow sea if needed. But I am sure it will not come to that, the Lord Regent not refuse a request as noble as yours. Soon enough you will be sat in Storm’s End ruling as you should be.”

His friend clasps his hand then. “I thank you Viserys, truly I could not ask for more. But enough about me, what is happening with the Stepstones and the lords of the sea. I had heard some heated words between you and Lord Celtigar. What was that about?”

Viserys sighs. “Celtigar keeps asking, or rather demanding that I give him leave to damn some patch of land on the Seaman’s Port, but the land is disputed between him and Lord Velaryon. As such I cannot in good consciousness allow him to do so. He is growing more and more aggravating as the weeks go by, but my hands are tied on the matter. Of course he just had to say Rhaegar would have allowed him to do it. But my brother was an idiot sometimes, so I did not take his words to heart.”

His friend is still holding his hand, and Viserys finds he does not mind, not truly. And Renly’s voice is soft when he responds. “Celtigar is an old man, sooner or later he will die. And then you can do as you wish. Besides Monford Velaryon is a rather sour man as well. Surely as Prince of Dragonstone you could just take the land?”

Viserys sighs once more. “I could but then that would make people think I am like my father, and that is something I never want said of me, they compare me to Rhaegar, that I can stomach, but comparing me to my father, no that is one comparisons that I do not think I could stand.  No the land shall remain as it is for the time being, but should Celtigar continue being this belligerent, I will have no choice but to strip him of his claim to the land.”

Renly lets go of his hand then and stands up standing behind him and massaging his shoulders. “That is a good idea Viserys. Gods you fell so tense, what else is on your mind?”

“I don’t know Renly,” he sighs breathing out as his friend loosens his shoulders. “I, I just feel so tired nowadays, it’s almost as if there’s this weight on my shoulders and though it is fun being Prince of Dragonstone, there is so much happening that I don’t know how to cope.”

“You’ve got to relax that’s how. I know you like Mysaria, but that Lyseni girl Larra? I think she likes you a lot, and she is not a whore.” His friend says.

Viserys chuckles slightly and says. “Aye that is true. But Larra seems to disapprove of me. How am I to woo her if she will not respond to my advances?”

His friend laughs. “You have to be your self Viserys. Trying to woo her won’t work. She is not like the other girls of Dragonstone, she is a Rogare and as such will expect more sophistication. You are a sophisticated lad when you are not fucking someone else’s betrothed.”

“That was only the once!” he protests. “And besides it’s not as if Gormon minds he doesn’t like girls!”


	75. Reflections

****

**8 th Month of 292 A.C. Ghoyan Drohne**

**Lady Ellaria Sand**

It was somewhat of a relief to be away from King’s Landing, for whilst she missed her girls, she knew that a moment more in that infernal city with very little to do there would have driven her mad. It was not that she did not like her fellow council members she got along with most of them, it was just that she felt she would be of more use doing something actively rather than just sitting on her arse all day collecting reports rather than gathering information. As it was the council was in very good hands, the ever solid and present Lord Regent Rickard Stark held King’s Landing in an iron grip and would not allow anything to happen in the city if it threatened his grandson. Hoster Tully the Hand of the King was a shrewd man who knew where the wind was blowing and did all he could to ensure the regent’s policies were implemented with effectiveness, they were a good team the regent and the hand keeping out enemies and building alliances. Then there was the master of laws, Simon Staunton was a good administrator and he was good at ensuring laws were enforced but there was no backbone in the man he could be told to jump and he would not ask why, only how high. Grand Maester Ebrose was kindly old man, but Ellaria truly believed that was just an image he put on, there was something more to him. Wyman Manderly the master of coin a clever man who did all he could to keep the coffers filled, Monford Velaryon the master of ships a hard and stern man and a true loyalist. Yes the council was safe without her.

It was her girls she was worried about truth be told. Obara the eldest of them all was twenty it was true, but she was more suited to combat then surviving the intrigues of King’s Landing, and yet Ellaria would not feel peace of mind if the girl was not in King’s Landing guarding her sisters. Nymeria was there as well helping run Ellaria’s operations whilst she ventured to find the man who had killed Oberyn, Nym was a clever girl a very clever girl, more so than Obara and used her wits to get what she wanted instead of just brute force. And then there was Tyene, the beautiful enchantress Tyene, she reminded Ellaria somewhat of Oberyn with her ease of words, and her somewhat deceptive appearance. Then there were Ellaria’s own two girls by Oberyn, Elia who was turning into another Obara if her latest training was any indication and then there was Obella, sweet Obella. Gods she missed her daughters something fierce, but she knew that being here in Essos was the only way right now to ensure that they were safe and protected. The sooner she found the magister the sooner she could come back home and they could rest easy knowing Oberyn’s killer had been brought to justice.

It had taken her a long time, but eventually she had found out through her various sources in Essos where the Archon, or rather the former Archon of Tyrosh had disappeared to. And because she knew that the man more than likely had had a hand in Oberyn’s death she had made it her mission to find him and question him, and kill him if need be. After a long time of searching, she had found him cowering in an abandoned house in Ghoyan Drohne and she had taken to questioning him almost at once. “There are two ways this can go Archon. Either you tell me all you know about the magister and where he is right now and I will leave you here to your pitiful existence, or you do not tell me what you know and I will take it from you anyway through whatever means necessary. Now which option do you prefer?”

The Archon of Tyrosh was a once powerful man now reduced to skin and bone, there was a haunted look about him but there was also defiance in his eyes. “You have come too late my lady. I cannot give you the information you desire. For regardless of whether I do or don’t I will be killed. Times are changing and things are moving far quicker than either of us could know how to deal with.”

“What does that mean?” Ellaria asks.

The Archon laughs. “It means that the person you are looking for knows you have been looking for him since the moment your lover died and as such has been putting all kinds of methods in place to prevent you from ever finding him. What information I have on him now is likely to be old and out dated. You will never find him, you might as well kill me and have done with it.”

This answer frustrated Ellaria, but she still kept going. “Very well then. Tell me Archon why did you flee Tyrosh? You were one of the most powerful men in the Free Cities and yet you fled. Why?”

The man breaks out into a cracked smile. “Because I am not a fool my lady. The magisters of Tyrosh were pushing for me to go, the lord regent might think he has gotten Tyrosh completely under control, but one can never control Tyrosh. The place has been uncontrollable ever since Aegor Rivers fled there with the children of Daemon Blackfyre. There is a presence there that makes it almost impossible for the city to ever truly co-operate with the Iron Throne. Even I was not able to make much change on this, and I am related to them.”

“I have heard much about your supposed relation to these dragons, but tell me from where does it come?” Ellaria asks.

“My grandfather was the son of Rohanne of Tyrosh from her second marriage. After the Blackfyres fled to Tyrosh they needed allies here and so Rohanne married one of the magisters, a cruel man he was but he gave his new family all kinds of wealth and power. That was why they were such a threat for so long. They had his backing, and my grandfather rose high because of it. And yet, the Blackfyres always were the ones controlling things, and my grandfather did not like that.” The man responds.

Intrigued Ellaria asks. “And what did your grandfather do to try and stop them?”

“He drove them from Tyrosh when he became the Archon, but he allowed his brother Aenys to remain, for his brother and he had always been good friends. Of course this did not sit well with Bittersteel and the other Blackfyres, and when Aenys died in King’s Landing after having gone at my grandfather’s urging, the Blackfyres with the Golden Company sacked Tyrosh and killed my grandfather and had his entrails strung up across the walls of the city as a message to any and all. The magisters and the Archon might have the formal titles of power, but they would always rule the city.” The archon responds coughing slightly.

“So why did you flee? Were you planning on doing something similar? But there are no more Blackfyres left. They died with Maelys the Monstrous on the Stepstones over forty years ago.” Ellaria argues.

The archon laughs, a harsh sound. “If you truly believe that, then you are more naïve than the average Westerosi my lady. Come now think about it surely your father would have told you the stories, he himself served here for a time.”

“What do you mean? My father never served anywhere but in Dorne.” Ellaria protests.

The man looks at her surprised. “You truly do not know. Well I am not surprised, your father was never one to truly speak much about anything. But still surely you must have heard rumours?” Ellaria shakes her head and the man sighs. “Your father served a time here in Tyrosh as the Dornish ambassador, he did a great many things here to ensure the power plays continued as they always have within my city, but he also did something that might well have cost him his place here.”

Ellaria is truly intrigued now. “What did he do?”

“He helped someone escape whom he should have let die.” The archon responds.

“Who?” Ellaria asks, wishing the man would be more precise.

Instead of giving her the answer she wants the Archon asks in that raspy voice of his. “How much do you know of the fourth Blackfyre rebellion and what came after it my lady?”

Ellaria is momentarily stumped and then she responds. “The fourth Blackfyre rebellion was a complete failure, Daemon Blackfyre the third was slain by Ser Duncan the Tall and the Golden Company was sorely beaten, Bittersteel managed to lead them back across the sea, but at the cost of many of his precious Blackfyres. Afterward he laid low for some time only to reappear fighting in the Disputed Lands where he died.”

“Aye that is what everyone knows, what they don’t know is that by the time of the fourth Blackfyre rebellion divisions were growing within the Blackfyre family. Some such as Daemon the third, and Bittersteel wanted to keep pushing until they had their goal achieved, the argued that the Targaryens were weakening and that they would fall. Others such as Maegon Blackfyre the first Daemon’s sixth son argued that they would never sit the throne and that they should stop the fruitless pursuit. Of course when the call came they all went to Westeros and most died, but Maegon’s son Daemon did not forget, and when Bittersteel died he took command of the company, and began looking east and not west.” The archon states.

“This is all very interesting but what does it have to do with my father?” Ellaria asks.

“Well Daemon Blackfyre’s seventh son Baelon wanted the throne that he saw as his birth right and argued fiercely with his nephew over the course of action that he was taking, it got so bad that there was fighting within the flatlands between the two camps, it is not remembered now because none in Westeros paid attention to them anymore. But at the end Baelon was dead and this Daemon the fourth of his name was now undisputed commander of the Golden Company, until Maelys the Monstrous came to adulthood.” The archon says.

“The Monstrous killed his cousin in single combat for the leadership of the company. Everyone who cares for history knows this.” Ellaria says.

The Archon nods. “Aye, but what they do not say is that the fourth Daemon had children. Children who were a threat to the monstrous hold on the company. And for that reason they were taken from Tyrosh where they had been based and were put out to different places. Your father lost his eye that day, when the Monstrous and his savages came calling.”

Ellaria looks at the Archon and asks. “My father willingly aided in allowing the Blackfyres to escape?”

“They were children nothing more. They were harmless, none of them wanted to claim the Iron Throne. But Maelys did not see it that way, his cousins were a danger to him and so he sent his men out to get them. The eldest a boy was found and was castrated, another boy was sold into slavery, and finally the girl was sold off to a brothel.” The Archon says his breath coming out raggedly now.

Ellaria feels something akin to recognition dawning inside of her but still she needs to know. “How do you know this?” she asks.

The Archon looks at her and for the first time she sees a hint of violet in his eyes. “Because I was the one who aided and protected them all one way or another. I ensured they had food to eat and somewhere to sleep when they could go no further. I could not do so openly, but I have my friends and allies. When you are descended from Aegor Rivers, people here are willing to do almost anything for you.”

This is another revelation that leaves her reeling, but she must bring the man back onto task. “But then why did you say the magister would never be found?”

“Because I was the one who told him you were looking for him. I could not help him when he was a child and his father died. But I could help him now, and I would make sure he was well protected. It is justice you seek is it not my lady?” the archon asks.

“It is vengeance. Your friend killed my prince.” Ellaria responds sharply.

The Archon laughs. “That he did, but are you not going to ask where he is?”

She looks at the man who looks to be dying before her and asks. “Where is he?”

“Where he has always been. Pentos. Though not for long.” The Archon says.

 

 


	76. A Matter of Succession

**12 th Month of 292 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

King’s Landing, the centre of power, and the place where everyone came to vie for influence and to prove themselves. After nearly ten years since the rebellion had ended Rickard was quite comfortable in saying that he had won control over the city, something that had taken Tywin Lannister nearly twenty years to achieve he had done so in less than ten. There was not a man or woman in this city who did not owe him in some way or the other. And for that he was very proud, he and his wife had done what none else had done since the days of Bloodraven and now they had eyes and ears everywhere, nobody could shit in King’s Landing without them knowing about it, it was quite a heady feeling. Of course there were people unsettled by this, but they were in the minority and Rickard intended to ensure they remained that way.

The family was developing as well, he and his wife had settled into life in King’s Landing quite well, they both thrived off of the drama and the intrigue that was bountiful at court. And it helped that Lyarra had a rather more silken touch to her than he was quite capable of. She was able to find out things with rather a lot of ease, whilst it did take him some time to get to grips with the much more subtle machinations of court politics he had adapted quickly. And the lad that they were doing this for was growing up to be a delightful young lad. The king, his grandson Jonothor Targaryen was a bright and inquisitive child who was always asking questions about this, that and the other, and would only stop when his mind was sated. He had caused all kinds of trouble through his wanderings of the Red Keep and more often than not Rickard had found him in the vault staring at the eggs and the crowns. He was a good child and the companionship of the other young lordlings seemed to be doing him good.

Right now though he had called a meeting of the court to hear out a petition from one of the boys he had helped raise. Renly Baratheon looked like a younger version of his elder brother Robert, and had his charm, but he also had an arrogance to him that Robert had never had as well as a keen mind. The lad had come with Prince Viserys, someone Rickard regarded as a son of sorts, to present his claim to Storm’s End. This had of course led to the Wensingtons and the Bollings to protest and demand that they have a chance to present their claim as well. Rickard though was already more inclined to side with Renly simply because of the sheer presumptions the Wensingtons had exercised, demanding things as they were due these things. It had grated on Rickard’s nerves and made him less inclined to listen to them. But listen to them he must, and it was with the air of a man tired of such squabbles that he spoke silencing the court. “My lords and ladies we are here today to hear two competing claims to a most ancient seat of Storm’s End. The recently knighted Ser Renly Baratheon the last surviving son of Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana and his goodsister Lady Wensington who is heavy with her late husband Lord Stannis’ child. Let Ser Renly speak first and present his case.”

There is complete silence in the hall as Renly steps forward and speaks in that clear voice of his, Rickard can see several maidens swoon. “Thank you my lord regent. My Lords and Ladies, I am sure many of you are wondering why you are here to listen to a younger brother protest over the fact that his niece or nephew would inherit the family seat over him. You must be thinking that I am nothing more than a grasping man looking for a way to further myself in the world. I too would think this, but know that this is not the case. I know for a fact that my goodsister is not in fact carrying my brother’s child. She is carrying another man’s child.”

At this whispering breaks out and Lord Wensington a bold man shouts. “How dare you accuse my daughter of such acts! My daughter was nothing but a dutiful and loving wife to Lord Stannis. They consummated the marriage and she is with child. What is there that is so hard to accept?”

Rickard looks at the lad and is impressed to see that he is not fazed. “I refuse to believe that after six years of marriage and more failed pregnancies than a Lannister has gold that suddenly by some miracle my brother managed to get Lady Wensington with child. He even confessed to me that he feared he might be impotent.”

Another round of harsh gasping and whispers. Rickard wonders why the boy has mentioned this but waits for Wensington to respond. “Nonsense, complete and utter nonsense my lord regent. Lord Stannis was nothing if not dutiful and he did his duty regularly, the fact that previous attempts failed can be attributed to stress. The Stormlands is a volatile region. There was a lot that would have worried Lord Stannis and my daughter, his lady wife.”

Rickard nods at this, it does make sense after all, but he does suspect that there is more to the tale. Renly certainly seems to think so. “Oh please stop with this nonsense Wensington. I am sure your daughter came to you after the third year of her marriage and complained that she could find no passion with my brother and therefore asked you for guidance, to get the child she so desired. And you of course had the solution, a way to get what you wanted and give your daughter what she wanted. A way to cheat your way into Storm’s End. You made a cuckhold of my brother.”

More whispers follow this and Rickard looks and sees Lord Wensington beginning to turn red. “Lies, all lies. Where is your evidence Renly? My daughter was nothing but a true wife to her husband. You tell these lies because you want what you cannot have, and because your brother never loved you!”

Rickard looks at his wife and sees the same look of exasperation on her face that must be on his. That was a low blow and shows just how desperate Lord Wensington must be. “Maybe he did not, maybe he did. It makes no matter, my brother is dead, because you ordered him killed. You wished to make sure your plan came off without a hiccup. It was you who continually whispered in his ear to keep the laws and taxes in place that were serving to cripple his standing with his bannermen, indeed you wanted him to keep them in place so that the lords would revolt and install you as regent.”

Wensington looks at a loss, but Rickard knows that is part is true, after all Durran Caron himself wrote to King’s Landing asking what to do. He keeps quiet though waiting for Wensington to respond. When he does so he sounds as if he is breaking. “Lies! All lies! I had nothing to do with Lord Stannis’s death. You have no proof and no evidence!”

At this Renly smiles slyly and says. “Actually I do. My Lord Regent if you will allow me to, I would like to call two people to speak now. One is Lord Durran Caron, and the other is Ser Ellard Bolling.” Rickard merely nods and watches as the behemoth that is Durran Caron walks forward to stand before the throne. Renly looks at him once before asking. “Do you admit to confessing to me that Lord Wensington asked you to have my brother killed, and that to this end you hired men to ambush my brother whilst he went for a hunt?”

Caron looks briefly at him and then looks at Renly before responding. “I admit Lord Wensington came to me asking about hiring men to remove Lord Stannis. I told him where he could get such men from but I did not aid him in removing your brother my lord.”

“And why is that?” Renly asks.

“I am a martial man, there is honour in killing a man in battle. There is none in ambushing him.” Lord Durran responds.

“Thank you my lord.” Renly says, Wensington is sputtering now but the young stag ignores him. “I now ask Ser Ellard Bolling to stand forward.” The man a wisp of one truth be told stands forward and looks scared, after Martyn threatened to castrate him he has not been quite so arrogant. “Ser Errol, do you know why you are here?”

The man is silent a moment and Rickard sees Martyn tensing out of the corner of his eye, the man swallows and then responds. “I am here because I committed treason against my liege lord. I cuckholded him with his wife and got her with child.”

Shocked whispers echo around the court room now. “And how many times did you sleep with her, and on whose orders?” Renly asks.

“I have lost count on the number of times we fucked my lord. But it was always a pleasurable experience.” The knight japes, but swallows nervously when Rickard moves on the throne. “I did it on the orders of Lord Wensington my lord. He told me to do it in order to get revenge on Lord Stannis. “

“He did, did he? And why would he do that?” Renly asks.

“Because he wished for his grandson to be Lord of Storm’s End and it did not seem as though that would happen with Stannis Baratheon. And so he suggested I do the deed.” Ser Ellard responds.

“And because of your own Baratheon ancestry the likelihood that the child would be born with black hair and blue eyes was quite high was it not?” the young stag asks.

“Yes my lord. That is what we were hoping for.” Bolling responds.

“So to surmise, Lord Wensington asked you to sleep with his daughter your liege lady, in order to get her with child, thus making my brother a cuckhold. And then later had my brother killed. That is correct?” the stag asks.

“Yes my lord it is.” Ser Ellard responds.

Renly looks at Rickard then and merely says. “I am done my lord regent.”

Rickard nods and says. “We have heard a very convincing case from Lord Renly here today. Is there anything you have to say to repudiate these claims Lord Wensington?”

“Lies! They are all telling lies. They are all jealous because my grandson or granddaughter will rule the Stormlands and they will not.” Wensington spits.

“Yet all that these people have said does make it seem as though you are responsible not only for the cuckholding of Stannis Baratheon but also his death. And you have not provided any evidence to suggest otherwise. You can understand why I do not believe you my lord.” Rickard says.

“Just ask my daughter! She will tell you that they are speaking lies! Tell them Susanna tell them!” Wensington all but shouts.

Rickard looks at the Lady and asks. “My lady? Do you have anything to add to this?”

The lady is silent for a very long time, and then after what feels like an age she breaks down and begins speaking through sobs. “Yes, it is all true. It is all true, I slept with Ser Ellard, I wanted a child. Is that a crime, it was clear Stannis was impotent, and I so wanted a child. I only did something that I thought was best. My father wanted Stannis gone once he realised that I was with child. I…I did not want him to die, but… it had to happen.”

Betrayed by his own daughter, the court is whispering fervently now, and Rickard can see Lord Wensington sweating and sputtering. “There you have it my lords and ladies, the confession of a crime. A crime that was brought about by greed and lust, but also a desire to have a child. There were other ways to achieve that my lady, you could have petitioned for the marriage to be annulled, but no you went down a far darker path and for that I cannot forgive. You shall join the silent sisters once your child is born and your child shall be raised here in King’s Landing. As for you Ser Ellard, you shall be sent to the Night’s Watch, and to make sure you respect those vows, your manly parts shall be removed. Lord Wensington death awaits you for this crime. Martyn give me Ice.” Rickard says.

He stands and begins walking down the steps of the throne, when he reaches the foot of the throne, Martyn hands him Ice, Wensington is thrown to the ground his head bent. He is pleading but Rickard does not hear him, he raises his sword in both hands and removes Wensington’s head from his shoulders and then gives Ice back to Martyn and holds the head up. “Let this be a lesson to all that treason no matter the reason is not smart. Ser Jacelyn see his head put on a spike on the walls, and see to it that Ser Ellard is dealt with.”

The man nods and goes to do as said, Ellard Bolling is protesting as he is dragged away but Rickard thinks nothing of it. He walks back up the steps and sits back down on the throne, and addresses the court at large. “I as Lord Regent, do in the name of my grandson his grace King Jonothor Targaryen King of Westeros, do hereby name Ser Renly Baratheon as Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.”

As the court cheers and people come to congratulate him, the boy is smiling, and he knows then that he has won the loyalty of the Stormlords for now.

 


	77. A Child King

**4 th Month of 293 A.C. Red Keep**

**King Jonothor I Targaryen**

The Vault was filled with so many interesting things, there were swords and other weapons there that from his lessons Jon knew were from Valyria, and their smoking forges, there were crowns there from every king dating from Aegon the Conqueror to his grandfather the mad King. And there were so many books on ancient lore that Jonothor would sometimes spend hours there, just exploring and reading the various books and getting lost within them that he sometimes forgot the time and where he was. More often than not Ser Arthur would have to come to remind him he had some lessons to attend to or the other. And whilst he liked Ser Arthur a lot, that was the only time when he did not, when the knight reminded him of his lessons. Oh it was not that he did not like them, it was just that he thought Maester Marwyn was a bit strange and a bit eccentric and somewhat scary. Yet grandpapa often said he would need to get over his fear for he was a king, and kings do not show fear.

It helped he supposed that his cousin Robb had come down from Winterfell perhaps a moon or two ago now. His cousin had grown taller since last Jonothor had seen him, but he still was a devil, always plotting something or the other. Some form of game for them to play and some prank for them to play on someone else. He liked having his cousin here, it was fun, and it was always nice to meet new people. Robb had come with two other people with him, Roderick Dustin the eldest son of Lord Willam Dustin, Roderick was a nice boy, he was a year older than both Jonothor and Robb, and was often leading them in their games and pranks. Whilst Roddy as he liked to be called was loud and flamboyant, his cousin Domeric Bolton the heir to the Dreadfort was quiet and often quite solemn. Nothing they did ever seemed to bring Domeric out of his shell and Jonothor wondered why that was, after all Domeric was a nice boy but being quiet all the time must be boring.

In their lessons they had just finished learning about King Maekar the first, who was Jonothor’s great, great, great, great grandfather, and had been a very good king. A warrior by nature, he had managed to do many things that had allowed for there to be peace during his reign, which had lasted for twelve years. And yet towards the end of his reign the Peakes had rebelled, the Peakes, they always seemed to be causing trouble Jonothor thought. He had made a note to keep an eye on them when he ruled in his own right. He had even asked grandpapa about the Peakes, and grandpapa had told him that whilst the Peakes of the past most certainly had been traitors the current Lord of Starpike was not and that he was a good man, true and loyal. Jonothor had never met Lord Titus Peake, but had met his brother Laswell, and he could say he did not like the man one bit, not at all.

Of course thoughts of the Peakes and his lessons would not help him win the game he was playing with Robb and the others. A simple game, where right now Jonothor was wielding a wooden stick attempting to hit a ball of wool away from his person and past Harwyn and Jasper who serving as fetchers of the ball. He and Roddy would run once he had hit the ball and the more times they ran the more points they would get. It was a fun game, but it was one Jonothor had yet to win at considering how good Robb was at it. As it was right now, his cousin was the one preparing to throw the ball.

Jonothor watched as his cousin ran up to throw the ball, and raised his stick high enough that when he swung it, the speed allowed him to hit the ball quite far. He and Roddy ran then, and as neither Harwyn nor Jasper had managed to get the ball just yet, they ran another, and then another, and then another before the ball finally made it back to Robb. “Three runs to me and Roddy.” Jonothor says.

“That’s all the runs you will be getting Your Grace.” His cousin says smiling slyly.

“Oh you think so Stark?” Jonothor asks.

“I know so.” His cousin responds and then prepares to throw the ball once more.

The ball comes flying out of his cousin’s hand and Jonothor watches as Roddy uses his quick hands to smack the ball far beyond where Jonothor had hit it and they run and they run and they run, when they go a to run a fourth time, Robb tries to grab hold of his shirt, but Jonothor swerves to the right and manages to avoid his cousin. Jonothor sticks his tongue out. “You missed me cousin.” He laughs.

“I allowed you to get passed Your Grace.” His cousin replies smiling.

Robb throws the ball and this time Jonothor manages to hit it so hard it actually ends up bouncing out of the courtyard and back into the hall. Jonothor and Roddy run as hard as their legs will take them, they run as many times as they possible can before Harwyn manages to throw the ball back to Robb. Roddy faces the next ball and manages to hit it into hall as well and they go running as fast they possibly can once more. Eventually Jonothor misses one of his cousin’s throws and they swap sides. And the game continues on and on until eventually Jonothor finds himself facing Jasper Arryn, and knowing that he is very close to actually winning the game.

He feels nervous then as Jasper comes running to throw the ball and when the balls comes hurtling toward him Jonothor raises his bat and just about manages to hit it, and he runs, gods does he run for his life. He sees that Robb has not managed to get the ball just yet, and so he calls Roddy for another run and gods he is so relieved when he gets back to where he was. Victory, he has finally won. He smiles and claps as do his friends and he looks at his cousin and says. “Told you I would win Stark.”

“So you did Targaryen.” His cousin replies smiling.

As they all walk to put the stick and the ball back, Jonothor asks. “Where was Domeric? I thought he would be here by now?”

“Who knows where my cousin is Your Grace? I swear sometimes he can be so moody it is quite frustrating. I keep telling him he needs to smile more, he is not the same age as Prince Viserys or Lord Renly, and he can afford to smile.” Roddy responds.

“Why is he always so grim?” Jonothor asks. “Does he not like it here in King’s Landing?”

Roddy seems to consider this a moment and then says. “No I don’t think so Your Grace. I think that’s just how he is. He’s always been quiet. But the fact that he is slightly older than us as well might have something to do with it as well. I mean what child who is four and ten wants to play with a set of ten year olds?”

“Still it’s not like Lord Renly and Prince Viserys would play with him. They are too old and I overheard Prince Viserys call Domeric a moody, what was the word? Git? I think that was the word.” Robb says.

“I can’t say I blame him. Dom needs to learn to be happier. And not play with his harp so often.” Roddy jokes.

Jonothor considers this and then says. “Maybe it’s what he likes doing. If that what he likes doing then that’s what he should do. I know I wouldn’t want to do anything I did not like.”

“Aye but you are the king Your Grace, you can afford to not do what you don’t want to do.” Jasper Arryn says, Jasper was a confident lad, and Jonothor liked him, even if his mother was a strange one.

“What do you mean by that?” Jonothor asks.

“Well even if I don’t have to do something I have to do it because not doing it would be considered rude or not proper. My father is a very traditional man Your Grace. And it is almost as if he thinks King Aegon the Fortunate is still alive.” Jasper japes.

“Even as king I have to do things I don’t want to do.” Jonothor protests. “I have to be friends with you, and see your ugly mug every day.” He japes causing the other boys to laugh and for Jasper to playfully punch him.  “But no even I have to do things I don’t like doing. Like having to listen to Marwyn talk. I swear the man rambles worse than Ebrose does.”

“Oh gods. I did not think anyone could ramble worse than Ebrose.” Roddy says. “The man is so old I am surprised he is still alive. Gods his lectures are so boring.”

“Marwyn is worse. He is scary.” Jonothor insists.

“Marwyn is terrifying. He always seems to be angry and always seems to be determined to make us learn about the god damned dragon eggs. There are only three left it’s not like they are going to hatch anytime soon.” Robb says.

“And he is always being nice to Daenerys and the girls. I don’t understand why that is. What makes them so much more different than us?” Jonothor asks.

“I think it’s because Daenerys actually pays attention when she has Marwyn teaching her. None of us do. Well apart from Domeric but he always pays attention to everything.” Roddy says.

“It’s almost as if he wants Marwyn to teach him about fire. Fire is interesting and everything but there is so much more that we could learn. Marwyn used to be at the citadel surely he knows more about Summerhall than anyone else?” Jonothor says.

“Summerhall? I thought you didn’t want to know about Summerhall Your Grace?” Jasper asks.

“I only said that so Daenerys would stop asking so many questions about grandfather. I don’t want to know about the mad king, I want to know about King Aegon and Prince Duncan. Not the mad man who was my grandfather.” Jonothor says.

There is a silence a moment, and then Harwyn speaks and everyone very nearly jumps so rarely does the Lord of the Islands talk. “I think we should learn more about different religions.”

“Not the damned Drowned God please!” Roddy groans. “I know that you worship him and all Harwyn, but by the gods that religion is one of the most boring religions I have ever read about.”

“I did not know you could read Roddy. I thought you just looked at image books.” Jonothor japes.

“Oh do shut up Your Grace. But seriously anything but the Drowned God.” Roddy pleads.

“I was not going to suggest the Drowned God. Even I do not want to learn more about that religion.” Harwyn says. “No I was meaning this new faith of the seven. Surely that is something we should learn about considering the High Septon is a man of this branch?”

“Why? What is so different about it? It is still worshipping seven statues.” Jasper says lazily.

“But there is something different about it. I think it is important.” Harwyn insists.

To prevent an argument Jonothor says. “I will speak to my grandfather about it and see what he says Harwyn. But now I’ve got a challenge for all of us. Last one to go to the kitchens has to sit with the girls during lessons.” And with that he begins running, the others soon follow and he knows Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell are following behind.


	78. Revenge, A Viper's Dish

**8 th Month of 293 A.C. Pentos**

**Lady Ellaria Sand**

She had left the Archon in the hut where she had found him, covered in filth and shit. He had given her what she had needed and wanted, and though the Archon had begged her to end his suffering, Ellaria had decided to leave him to rot. Let his suffering continue, that was her reasoning, for he had caused the death of her love and so he would suffer for that. As for what he had told her, she knew not what to completely believe, the tale seemed realistic after all she had known from the start that the man was a descendant of Rohanne of Tyrosh that he was also the blood of another traitor in Aegor Rivers was news to her. Though it made sense she supposed, Aegor Rivers had been a most prolific man and had had many children that much Ellaria knew. The news of where the eunuch and the magister had come from had surprised her somewhat, but then it made sense. All of it, the schemes the eunuch had had in place, and the letters her own lover had been writing trying to confirm what he knew about the two of them. She knew where the magister was, and she would make him pay, and soon she would find out where the eunuch was as well.

The journey to Pentos itself had been a hard go for her. Stopping and starting over numerous occasions as she watched the followers of the Red King Moqorro march and preach the word of their god king. They were the worst type of religious believers, the fanatics. All of their words and actions were garnered toward spreading the word of their god king, and those who disagreed were killed. One night in a tavern she had overheard two men talking about the red priest Thoros of Myr and how he had failed in his duty, and how the Red King was going to send another more powerful priestess to King’s Landing to convert the king. Ellaria knew that when she arrived back in King’s Landing she would need to speak to the regent about this. There were other things she saw and heard as she travelled to Pentos, Tyrosh had fallen into anarchy with the magisters fighting one another for control of the city, something Ellaria thought had the eunuch’s fingers all over it. In Slaver’s Bay there were riots, the slaves were revolting as the priest Benerro spread the word of the Red King. And word was filtering through of someone from Asshai coming. Dark times indeed. But nothing compared to word of the death of the Prince of Pentos, found murdered in his bed, his silver haired lover gone. And that was when she knew where to find the Magister.

His manse was in the back alleys of Pentos, hidden away, at least the place where he was staying. It was a house of luxury, and there were many whores and other such things present, but there was also the air of it being a training centre. There were swords and shields strewn across the place. And paintings, paintings of children with silver and blue hair. The magister himself was stood on the balcony, his beard pronged and greying, his hair black and silver. His voice was soft when he said. “So you have found me at last have you my lady? I wondered when you would come.”

“If you wondered why did you do nothing? Why wait here and not go away and plan?” Ellaria asks.

“Because there would be no fun in doing that, now would there.” the magister responds. “I have been running my whole life, and I thought it was high time that I stood firm and held my ground.”

“That does make sense magister. Leaving those clues most certainly makes sense, especially if you wished for me to find you.” Ellaria responds. “But what of the Archon? You just left him there to die. I would have thought that you would have at least seen to him yourself.”

The magister laughs. “The Archon? Oh that fool lost his use long ago. He stopped being relevant after he bent the knee to the throne. He served his purpose. That he was still alive, is due to the fact that we are family nothing more.”

“I would not like to know what you do to those whom you do not consider family magister.” Ellaria responds.

The magister chuckles once more and says. “When one grows up in exile, one learns to treat those of use well, and those who have no use with disdain. He is expendable, that he is alive still is a testament to how resilient he is.”

“That he told me the truth of your origin does not bother you then magister? After all the work you did to keep it a secret one would have thought you would not want any loose ends.” Ellaria responds.

“He told you did he? Well he never knew how to keep his mouth shut. That was his main problem. He would always talk and talk, and never once did he think that silence was a way out of the troubles he was in. A problem of that side of the family, they never know when to be quiet. And now there are none of them left. But the question is do you believe him?” the magister says.

“What the Archon said makes sense. It explains the eunuch’s actions during his time with Aerys, and why he disappeared after the Great Council. There was always a feeling that the Blackfyres were never quite finished, but one could never look too far to find them. For they were gone underground. Until now. Why have you come out of hiding?” Ellaria states.

“Plans on this scale take a long time to grow and to fall into place my lady. Your father should know he helped with some of the earlier plans we had.” The magister says.

“A lie. Why would my father help you when he knew what you were? He helped you escape because you were children. He would not betray his king.” Ellaria responds.

“If you truly think that then you are more naïve than I had thought.” The magister says mockingly. “Think about it my lady, your father is not a very patient man, nor is he someone who forgets a slight. The king at the time had done much to wrong him when he was young, as had the Princess of Dorne. There is no reason why he would not aid us. Especially when the Princess had cost him your mother.”

Ellaria pauses then. “What do you know of that? How could you know of that?”

The magister laughs. “Who do you think it was who introduced your father and mother? They met in Tyrosh. She was from our side of the family. So you see my lady, you and I are kin.”

The news hits her hard. She does not remember her mother, who died when she was very young, but she does remember being told she had her mother’s fierceness. “You lie! My father would never sleep with one of you!”

“Your father did not care what your mother was. He loved her and he wanted to marry her. But when the Princess of Dorne found out, she ordered your mother killed, and blamed it on pirates. Surely you can see why your father never once rose for House Martell again after that.” The magister says in his deceptively soft voice.

“I… I.. do not know whether to believe you or not. If what you say is true, why did my father never say anything of it to me?” Ellaria asks, feeling her world coming down around her.

“Because he never wished to speak of her again. I learnt of what had happened to her when I was making a name for myself in the Golden Company, and when I found out I was wroth. I offered to kill the Princess and her husband for your father but he refused. He said he would not lose his daughter as well.” The magister responds.

There is only one way Ellaria can make sense of this. “You used his love for my mother, to break him! That is what you did. You used my father to break him and to create an ally for your schemes in Dorne. But you failed, my father did not rise for Maelys Blackfyre during the War of the Ninepenny Kings.”

The magister laughs. “Come now Ellaria. You are not as naïve as that. You know why your father did not rise for Maelys, because that fool was not the true claimant. And regardless, the Martells though Doran will deny it had their fair dealings with Maelys before he came to power.”

Ellaria snorts at this. “And are you saying that you are the true claimant to the throne?”

The magister laughs. “If I was you might well not believe me. But now you know that we are kin Ellaria, are you truly going to go through with this plan of yours?”

“You killed my love. You have hurt my family and you are a threat to the stability of the kingdom. Of course I will continue with the plan.” Ellaria responds confidently.

“So you would be willing to make yourself a kinslayer, I do not think so my lady. You are too honourable to do something such as this. And you will be reeling with the information I have just given you. No I do not think you will be doing anything.” The magister responds.

Ellaria draws her dagger then, and says softly. “Then explain to me why this dagger is in my hands. And none of your guards are here? Tell me where the others are and your death can be quick.”

The magister laughs. “I do not think so Ellaria. You would not dare harm family. Even family that you have just met. And regardless, how will you get out of here? My guards might not be here, but they will know if I am dead. I do not pay them to not know.”

“And that is where you have made a mistake. Those whose loyalty must be bought will always betray you, for someone can pay them a higher wage. Your men are my men now. And your time is running short. Tell me where the others are and this can end now.” Ellaria says moving closer to the man.

“Come now Ellaria. Do not be foolish. Think of it, we are family. We are blood, what have the Targaryens ever brought you and your loved ones but grief? You can get everything you have ever wanted, and your father can finally be happy, if you side with us. Would you truly destroy your chances of that, for getting revenge for a man who did nothing but use you?” the magister taunts.

“You will not speak of Oberyn like that magister. He was more of a man than you ever will be. And your death will not even begin to make up for his.” Ellaria snarls the dagger raised.

The man turns to look at her then. And she sees her opening, but the man himself has a mocking look on his face. “You are so much like your mother it is almost painful to see how woefully blind you are being. Think about it Ellaria my dear, you could be a princess of the blood if you side with us. With them you will be nothing more than a bastard. Your daughters would be princesses.”

“I would rather die than allow myself and my family to be associated with scum like you. Your time is up, I will give you one last chance to tell me where the others are.” Ellaria snarls pointing the dagger into his chest.

The man sighs. “You are so much like her Ellaria. So much like Serra. She would be proud of you.”

“Don’t you dare mention her, never you.” Ellaria snarls as she pushes down on the dagger and forces it into the man’s chest. As he sputters and spits, she says softly. “Valar Morghulis magister.” And with that she leaves the dagger in his chest and then turns and walks out of the manse.

 


	79. Choosing A Crown

**12 th Month of 293 A.C. Red Keep**

**King Jonothor I Targaryen**

This was a moment he had long waited for, a moment he was very excited about. The moment he finally got to choose what crown he would wear when he was formally crowned king. Ever since he had been old enough to truly understand what it meant that he was king, he had looked forward to being able to choose what crown he would wear. He had read up on every single crown that his ancestors had ever worn and from those he had read up on he had narrowed them down to his favourites. There was the simple gold band of Jaehaerys the Wise, which symbolised wisdom and good sense, there was the simple circlet of Aegon the third, which was a good crown but one associated with tragedy, there was the crown his grandfather had worn, which he had thought of merely because according to Ser Arthur it was also the crown his own father would have worn. And then finally there was the crown of his hero and great, great, great grandfather King Maekar the first, a band of black iron and gold with seven sharp points representing the seven kingdoms. This was the crown he most wished to wear, but of course he would need his grandpapa and grandmamma’s approval first.

They were in the Vault the three of them as well as Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur of the Kingsguard. And as Jonothor stared at the crowns before them he could not but feel like it was his nameday all over again and he was getting the chance to open the presents. His grandpapa spoke first. “Look closely Jonothor, look closely and then decide which ones you wish to put on okay?

Jonothor nods and then points to the crown of Jaehaerys the first, and Ser Gerold moves and grabs the crown before giving it to him. Jonothor looks at it in wonder, a crown for a man meant to reunite the kingdoms, a true crown for a true king. But would it fit. He places the crown on his head and asks. “How do I look?”

There is silence for a moment and then grandpapa answers. “Very noble Jonothor. You look like a king.”

Grandmamma responds. “Of course he looks like a king Rickard, he is the king. But no, that is an old man’s crown. It does not look too good on you Jonothor.”

Jonothor nods and gives the crown back to Ser Gerold who places it back on the rung. He then looks at the crown of Aegon the third otherwise known as the Dragonbane. The crown is rather simple to look at but there is a power to it, Jonothor places it on his head and instantly he sees things he wishes he did not have to see. He sees a boy no older than himself, and he sees the boy cowering before ten men all with their own goals and plans. He sees the boy watching as a girl’s body is removed from the spikes of the keep, he sees the boy now a man marrying a woman who is barely a woman, a girl more or less. And then he sees the man coughing as a young prince slips something into his drink. The visions blur and change, and then he sees smoke and fire, and the roaring of beasts long dead, and a child, a child cowering in the wreckage as a dragon consumes those around it. He blinks and he sees his grandmamma and grandpapa looking at him in concern. He blinks again and then asks. “How…how does it look?

“You look rather dashing sweetling.” Grandmamma says. “The crown brings out the dragon in you. But you do look awfully pale, are you feeling okay?”

“I…I don’t know grandmamma,” Jonothor responds. “I…I... Saw something, I think it was merely a dream though. But my head hurts wearing this crown.”

“Then you do not have to wear it sweetling.” Grandmamma responds.

Jonothor complies and though he is still disturbed by what he saw, he hands the crown over to Ser Gerold and then asks for his hero’s crown King Maekar’s crown. A true king was King Maekar. As Jonothor puts the crown on he feels the pure power in the crown, though it is slightly big for him now, he can feel it, the pure power that resonates inside of it. As with the previous crown he sees visions, of King Maekar, it must be him, wielding his mace in battle bringing men down right, left and centre. He sees King Maekar arriving back in the Red Keep a woman there to greet him, a woman with flowing black hair and haunting violet eyes. He sees the king riding to battle against the Peakes and the victory that comes. And then the visions change and he sees someone else, someone who looks a lot like him wearing the crown wielding a sword that glitters like black fire, and leading men into battle against half human beings. He sees the king fighting against swathes of red demons and slaying them one after the other. All this he sees and more and when he opens his eyes, he looks at his grandpapa and grandmamma and says. “I like this one. It feels right.”

His grandpapa nods. “You look noble and true. Like a true ruler. You look like King Maekar Jonothor.”

That causes Jonothor to swell with pride, his grandmamma looks at him for a long moment assessing everything and then she says. “Yes you look very dashing with this crown sweetling. Very dashing.  A true king needs a true crown, and I believe we have found yours.”

Jonothor smiles at his grandmamma and she smiles back at him. He looks at Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur who had been in the shadows, and asks. “What do you think Sers?”

“You look like a true king Your Grace. King Maekar come again.” Ser Arthur says.

“Aye, you look powerful and commanding as a true king should.” Ser Gerold says in his booming voice.

Jonothor beams with pride then and says. “I would like this crown grandpapa and grandmamma. It feels right for me.”

“Then you shall wear this crown my boy.” Grandpapa says.

And with that Jonothor gives the crown to his grandpapa for safe keeping and they all walk out of the vault. Whilst grandmamma and Ser Mark who had been waiting outside walk back to grandmamma’s room, Jonothor, grandpapa and Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur walk to the council chamber. This will be his first council meeting and he is very excited, he wonders what sort of things they will discuss, he hopes it is nothing too boring. As they get to the door of the council chamber grandpapa stops and so too does Jonothor. His grandpapa pulls him to the side and says. “I know you are a smart boy Jonothor, so you will understand why you cannot repeat anything that you hear in this meeting to anyone.”

“Yes grandpapa, to do so would be risky and to alert our enemies.” Jonothor says.

“Good boy.” Grandpapa says and then they are in the chamber. The lords all stand when he enters and he does as grandpapa said and bids them sit down.

Once they are all seated he speaks. “Thank you for coming my lords. There is much for us to discuss, please begin.”

Lady Ellaria, a very beautiful woman, who looks slightly sad speaks then. “Thank you Your Grace. Well as I am sure you all know I with the permission of the Lord Regent went to Essos to discover what I could about the magister and this Red King. I found the Magister in Pentos, needless to say the man is dead now. I learnt little from him about the eunuch’s plans but I did learn more about the Red King during my time in Essos.” The lady pauses and then takes a sip of water before continuing. “It seems that the Red King has been spreading his word and gospel, through a score of red priests in various places. All the powers that be in Volantis and their towns answer to him and to him alone. He has sent the chief priest of the Red God Benerro to Slaver’s Bay to stir up revolts amongst the slaves there telling them that only the red king can give them their freedom. Tyrosh has also capitulated before the threat of war from the Red King and his armies. Myr was also entering into discussions with the Red King when I had left.”

This seems to be quite an interesting topic of discussion for grandpapa speaks then. “And did it seem as though Myr was like to bend the knee to this Red King my lady?”

“Very much so. They wish to get the Disputed Lands back and this Moqorro it seems has promised them that chance so long as they do him fealty. Tyrosh capitulating really is the work of the eunuch. His fingers are all over that.” The lady Ellaria responds.

“That is very true my lady. The eunuch more than likely wants them to begin falling like dominoes. The more instability there is in Essos the more chance he has to building alliances with the new powers. What of Lys, will the city be threatened?” grandpapa asks.

“Not soon. The red king seems to be avoiding Lys for now. Instead he is concentrating on Qohor, Norvos and Braavos as well as Lorath. It seems he wants to have Lys all surrounded and to force the throne’s hand. Though he is sending someone to come to court to try and bring the king under his sway.” The lady Ellaria responds.

“Someone wants to control me?” Jonothor asks surprised. “Why?”

“Because these are bad people Your Grace,” Grandpapa says. “The Red King and his followers are fools who do not understand when they are not wanted. We must be on our guard Your Grace, and ensure that they do not succeed.”

“But why would they want to control me?” Jonothor asks wanting to know.

“Because evil people always wish to control those who have more power and are younger than them. And that is something I will not allow.” Grandpapa says.

Jonothor nods, and then Lord Monford Velaryon a grim and solemn man speaks. “It would be wise to consider doubling the size of the royal fleet. The Volanteene fleet is a big one, perhaps the biggest one in the known world. When the time comes they will outmatch us with what we currently have. But more ships means we can more openly challenge and beat them.”

Jonothor sees grandpapa nod and then turn to fat old Wyman Manderly and ask. “Do we have enough coin for such a venture?”

“Yes my lord regent. And if the King is agreeable we could more than likely start bringing in the builders and the materials needed right away. The coffers are overflowing and so this might do them some good.” The man responds.

Grandpapa looks at him and asks. “Well Your Grace what do you think? Shall we have more ships?”

Jonothor knows the answer to this and says. “If it will keep the Red King away then yes. Please build more ships.”

“There you have it then. Wyman and Monford work together and begin work by the moon’s end. Now what news is there of Lord Renly in the Stormlands?” grandpapa asks.

At this Grand Maester Ebrose, a funny old man speaks. “Reports come through that he is doing well my lord regent. The letters he sends are filled with encouraging news. Though the issue of whom he is to wed is something that will become more pressing as time goes on.”

“And what do your sources have to say about this my lady?” grandpapa asks Lady Ellaria.

“Lord Renly has a strong support base in the Stormlands my lord regent. He has the support of the Marcher lords, which does therefore mean that most everyone else is following him and doing so willingly. Of course as to whom he chooses as his bride, well that could lead to some friendly squabbling but I do not think it will be anything too serious.” The lady replies.

“Who could Lord Renly marry?” Jonothor asks.

Ebrose speaks then. “Arianne Tarth, Saera Dondarrion, Mariya Errol or even Delena Cafferen are all the most eligible maidens Your Grace.”

“Renly should marry someone nice and kind. After what that Wensington woman did.” Jonothor replies.

There is a moment’s silence and then grandpapa says. “Aye he should, and I am sure he will Your Grace. I am sure he will.”


	80. Final Thoughts

**4 th Month of 294 A.C. Red Keep**

**Lord Rickard Stark**

It had been ten years since the day when his grandson had been crowned king. Back then Rickard had been filled with a deep desire for revenge and a chance to prove to the kingdoms and the world that the Starks were not backward barbarians but were instead a force to be reckoned with. There had been some glitches along the way and Rickard suspected his relationship with his second son Eddard would never be the same as it was before the rebellion, but these were all part of the process of ruling. When he looked back on the decade of his grandson’s reign he felt proud. He had dealt with Tywin Lannister, he had replaced the faith with something more friendlily, and now, now he was in control of King’s Landing, there was no one here who could truly replace him. No one, and no one who had the ability to threaten him either.

There was just one man whom Rickard had not completely won over during this decade of the regency, and that was Jon Arryn. The man had been close to Robert Baratheon and even Rickard’s own son and so had remained away from the capital for some time after the great council. And yet the man had come with his wife and children when Rickard has asked if he would like his son Jasper to foster here in King’s Landing. Rickard knew Jonothor liked the lad, said he was a good child and was always someone who was eager to do and try new things. But the father, who Rickard had thought would not remain in King’s Landing long had remained here with his wife and two daughters for some time. And now Rickard had decided he wanted to know why. The man was sat before him, and as Rickard slowed his breathing down he spoke calmly. “My Lord Arryn, I hope you have enjoyed your stay in King’s Landing and that everything you and your family have needed has been provided for you.”

The Lord of the Vale nods. “It has indeed my lord regent. And I thank you for that on behalf of myself and my family. I know they have all thoroughly enjoyed being in the capital. The girls especially have been thrilled being able to explore the famed markets and buy all kinds of clothing and jewellery. And I know Jasper is most happy here as well.”

“That is good, very good my lord. It makes me glad to know that your family has had such an enjoyable time here. And that Lord Jasper is equally happy here is another boon. For I know his grace the King deeply enjoys your son’s company. There is one question I have had for some time my lord.” Rickard responds.

“Oh and what is that my lord regent?” Arryn asks.

“I know that you were not all that enthusiastic about coming to King’s Landing with your family considering how things ended after the Great Council. Robert Baratheon’s death was a tragedy brought about by his greed and his lust for power. You, yourself said upon your arrival here that you did not intend to stay for long. And yet here we are almost two years since then. What changed?” Rickard asks.

Arryn is silent for a long time and then he finally speaks. “Time is a great healer they say, and it seems that in my case that is true. I found that after Robert’s death I had wanted nothing to do with King’s Landing and the court. I did not, and I do not wish your grandson the king harm or ill, but I could not stand to be in the place where the man I had come to see as a son had died. And so I remained in the Eyrie and tended to my own lands. But then the letter came and I knew I could not remain hidden in my kingdom forever. There was a time for grieving and that time had long since passed. I wanted to be part of the game once more, for I feel I have my uses.”

“And what uses do you think you have my lord?” Rickard asks.

“I told you where to find the magister and now he is dead. That is one threat to the throne gone for now. I have told you what Braavos will do when the Red King comes calling and they are making their plans accordingly. I have lots of information and knowledge that can be used for the good of the kingdom and the king.” Arryn says.

“All true my lord, all true. And yet there are those who say you are here mainly to keep your wife from someone called Petyr Baelish. I wonder how true those rumours are.” Rickard probes.

To his credit, Lord Arryn does not even blink when he responds. “I admit there were some concerns I had about leaving my wife in Baelish’s presence. I am sure you could understand, after all you were there when her father told us that she was no maiden. I am no idiot my lord, I know Baelish was the boy who did the deed. And do not feel comfortable leaving my wife in the man’s company. And in our time here, my wife has proven to be nothing but loyal and faithful.”

“So you have remained in King’s Landing to ensure that your wife did not do something foolish with the Baelish boy. It is said he is good with numbers and with coin. I was half tempted to bring him here to aid Wyman. But then thought better of it. But tell me my lord, if the Baelish boy is such a concern why not just remove him. He is a minor lord and there would be no love lost if he died.” Rickard says.

“It is because he is good with coin and numbers that I have not sought to remove him. So long as he does his job well and without complain I will have no issue with him. And I do not mean for my wife to see him again. If my lord regent would allow it I would send Baelish to Braavos as part of the trade delegation that is going there soon.” Arryn says.

Rickard considers this a moment and then says. “Aye I see no reason not to allow him to go. If he is as good as you say he is, then he should have no trouble fitting into Braavos and its culture. I will let Wyman know.” He pauses then and takes a sip of water and then says. “With Lord Hoster ailing, and the cause of his ailment not yet clear I have found myself in need of a hand and I can think of no one better suited to the role than yourself my lord. You are an experienced lord who knows how to play this game of thrones. Let us put aside any past grievances and work together to ensure the stability of the realm.”

There is a moment’s silence and then Arryn responds. “I would be honoured to accept my lord regent. More than honoured even.”

Rickard smiles. “Good, very good. I shall make the announcement tomorrow at court. Now is there anything else you wish to discuss with me my lord?”

The man shakes his head and then stands and says goodbye. Rickard is left alone in his solar for a moment looking over the letter that came from Casterly Rock. It seems that there are a band of knights highly devoted to the old High Septon who have been causing some form of trouble in the Westerlands preaching and stealing food. As Rickard reads the letter he wonders if this could be some sort of ploy but then dismisses it, Jaime Lannister has shown himself to be nothing if not loyal to the crown and the throne. He decides that for the time being it is a problem for Lannister to deal with, should the need arise he will send aid nothing more.

Rickard stands then and stretches, he walks out of the room and accompanied by Martyn Cassel and Ser Gerold Hightower of the Kingsguard walks to White Sword Tower where his meeting with two of Ser Gerold’s sworn brothers Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell is meant to take place. After a leisurely stroll they arrive at the home of the Kingsguard and Rickard is led to the meeting room, where he finds Dayne and Whent already seated. Dayne as always is rigid and proper whilst Whent is more relaxed and calm. Rickard nods at them both and then sits down with Gerold to his left and Martyn to his right. “Thank you for meeting me Sers. I know you are busy with many things regarding the king, but it is about the king I wish to speak with you today. I know that when you all met after the Great Council, you decided to take more of an interest and a direct stance in the upbringing of the King, and so far it has gone well. My grandson is a smart young lad who will make a fabulous king. However, he is growing now, and will soon be ruling in his own right, and when that happens I want to know what you will do.”

Silence and then Hightower speaks. “We would do as the Kingsguard has always done. We would serve the King, we would protect the king and we would obey the king. I have no worries about the king’s sanity my lord regent. King Jonothor is a good and smart child, and will only make a good and smart man.”

“That is all well and good, but Rhaegar Targaryen was also said to be a good and smart child and look how he turned out. What is there to say that my grandson will not turn out the same? I am confident he will not, but one can never be too careful.” Rickard responds.

“Prince Rhaegar was often detached from reality my lord regent. He never did the things many normal children did and so it was no true surprise when he did what he did. He hid it well, but there was something lurking beneath the surface.” Ser Arthur Dayne says, and coming from the man who was supposedly Rhaegar’s best and greatest friend that is quite something. “His Grace King Jonothor does not seem that way. He has friends his own age, he is a bright and curious child yes, but he also does the things that all children do and creates mischief. He will not go astray I promise you.”

Rickard nods and then says. “I know you all swore to one another that should anything occur that goes against the King’s best interests you would intervene. And now that the king is nearly a man grown I want to ensure that this will still happen. There will be more people trying to influence and push him into things, I want to know you will all be there to protect and guide him.”

“Of course. He is our King, and truth be told I see him as the son I never had. I will protect him and guide him for as long as I am able.” Ser Arthur responds.

“No one and nothing will have any undue influence over the king my lord regent you can be sure of that. He will not fall like his forefathers did.” Ser Gerold promises.

“The King will rule as wisely and justly as King Maekar did.” Ser Oswell says.

“Good. Oswell I know that your network of spies has been slow on information, but do not stop using them. Jon Arryn will soon be in a position of power and I want to make sure that he is watched and that nothing suspicious occurs whilst he is here.” Rickard states.

“Of course my lord regent.” Oswell responds.

Rickard nods and then stands. “Well there is nothing more for us to discuss. I shall leave you to your duties.” And he turns and walks out of the room accompanied by Martyn and Ser Gerold.

The walk out of White Sword tower is done in silence with Rickard not really thinking of anything other than enjoying a nice cup of wine with Lyarra in the evening and listening to his grandsons talk of their activities of the day. But as they get close to Maegor’s Holdfast he sees Grand Maester Ebrose walking towards him looking rather tired and flustered. “Ah my lord regent thank the gods I’ve found you. I come bearing grim news.”

“What news?” he asks.

“The Hand has passed from this mortal coil. Lord Hoster is dead.” the man responds.


End file.
